


Check Engine Light

by mizdiz



Series: Scrap Metal [3]
Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-High School, Sequel, Teen Pregnancy, Texting, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2019-11-05 05:29:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 264,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17912894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizdiz/pseuds/mizdiz
Summary: Daryl and Carol have graduated high school, are living together, and are deeply in love. Everything is perfect and there is no conflict or drama and they are living the ideal fairy tale life.Lmao, just kidding. Life's a roller coaster and they're flying on the tracks with no safety bar. Turns out you can't control the future; all you can do is live it.





	1. Airplanes

**Author's Note:**

> if you haven't read "Team Groupchat: An Interlude" i suggest you do, partially because who doesn't want more Team Groupchat in their lives, but mostly because it contextualizes this story. you can probably jump into this without reading it, but it'll make more sense if you do.
> 
> happy reading, friends

**_PART 1: SMILEY FACE STICKER_ **

 

_ January 8th _

_ Saturday _

 

“I think I'm afraid of airplanes,” Carol says.

 

Daryl pauses and lifts his head from his position between her legs and blinks at her.

 

“What?” he asks.

 

“I think I'm afraid of airplanes,” Carol repeats, as though it'll make more sense a second time. Daryl squints.

 

“‘Kay, should I stop, or…” He gestures at their precarious placement, with her sat on the couch, her dress pushed up, feet propped on the coffee table, and Daryl in between her sitting on his knees on the floor.

 

“Sorry, it's not you. I randomly thought about my trip next week, and it made me think of airplanes, and then I started feeling nervous, and so I think I'm afraid of airplanes.”

 

Daryl twists his mouth and rests his arms on her thighs.

 

“What scares you about 'em?” he asks.

 

“I'm not sure,” she says. “I think it's because I've never been on one so I don't know what to expect.”

 

“Wish I could be more help, but I ain't never been on one neither.”

 

“I know. I asked Michonne what they're like and she said they're cool for about ten minutes and then you get bored, and she said to bring gum because I guess if you don't your eardrums explode or something, I dunno. Mostly I'm afraid something will happen and I'll die in a fiery crash and leave you to raise Henry all alone.”

 

“Don't they say planes are safer than driving?” Daryl points out. “Sure as hell safer than riding the bike I'd bet, and you love that thing.”

 

“Yeah, that's true,” Carol says, messing with Daryl's hair absently. “The other thing is that airplanes take you places—places that are far away from home.”

 

That is a fact Daryl is painfully aware of.

 

“Yeah,” he says with a sigh. “But it ain't for long, and it'll be good for you. I'm glad you get to go.” He takes her hand and kisses her knuckles. “Gonna miss you, though.”

 

“You too,” she says, sticking her lower lip out into a pout. “What if you forget about me?”

 

“Pfft, don't be dramatic,” he says. “It's a week.”

 

“Think of all the things that can happen in a week. There could be a nuclear war. We could get hit by an asteroid. France might take over and declare French the official language of the entire world…”

 

“Good thing you still got duolingo downloaded, then,” Daryl says, leaning up to give her a kiss. He rests his forehead against hers and adds softly, “Ain't no point in freaking out, baby, it'll be good, I promise.”

 

“You promise, huh? Since when do you control the future.”

 

“I never mention that superpower to you?”

 

“Shut up,” Carol says with a smile, smacking him playfully on the shoulder. “Okay, fine, I'll try to turn my brain off for a little while, but fair warning, I will probably worry again.”

 

“I know you will,” Daryl says fondly.

 

“Good. Now, as you were, sir.” Carol pushes Daryl's head back down. He lets out a snort and happily goes back to the task at hand.

 

—-

 

_ January 16th _

_ Sunday _

 

The Atlanta airport is big, busy, and crowded, and Daryl, pulling up to Carol’s terminal along the drop-off spot, is unhappy about it.

 

He’s also unhappy about dropping off Carol. 

 

A few months back, after the meager paycheck stopped outweighing the sexual harassment, Carol went job searching and found that one of the doctors that had worked on her mother’s case in the past had an opening for a receptionist, and Carol was hired on the spot. Dr. Kang had a soft spot for Carol, and when she found out about a retreat in San Diego for people affected by Huntington’s Disease, she paid Carol’s travel and accomodation costs in full without a second thought, which was all well and good, and Daryl had been supportive from the jump, but now, as he puts the car in park and eyes the people coming and going, dragging suitcases behind them, he’s realizing they’ve never been so far apart before.

 

“Sure you got everything?” he asks her, drumming his fingers nervously on the steering wheel of Carol’s beat-up Chevy Cavalier. Carol gives him an understanding smile from beside him in the passenger seat.

 

“Kind of late for that now,” she says. She reaches over and takes hold of his hand. He squeezes back tight. “Just a week, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Daryl says. “California, though. Shit’s on the whole opposite side of the country.”

 

“I’ll text you whenever I can,” she promises. “And I’ll call you before bed every night.”

 

“Don’t spend your whole trip worrying about me. I want you to get somethin’ out of it. I really am glad you’re going. The house is just gonna be quiet as hell without you in it, is all.”

 

“I know, but I’ll want to talk to you. This is gonna be a lot. They’ll probably want me to express emotions.”

 

“Pro’ly.”

 

“Gross.” She lets go of Daryl’s hand and turns to the backseat where Henry is gazing out the window happily, taking in all the new sights, unaware that he’s about to be very distraught. “Hey boy,” she says, reaching over to scratch the dog’s ears. He looks at her and thwaps his tail, a stupid grin on his face. “You be good. Don’t go causing trouble just ‘cause I’m not there.” Henry drools on the seat in response. She ruffles his fur before sitting back up. She looks at Daryl expectantly.

 

The two of them get out of the car and he helps her get her luggage from the trunk. He makes her triple check that she has her ID, credit card, and phone charger. He makes her show him that all her hygiene products are less than three ounces and fit inside a quart-sized bag. He tries to think of anything else he can do to stall, but runs out of ideas. He frowns.

 

“C’mere,” he says reluctantly, pulling her into a tight hug. “Be safe. Text me as soon as you’re there, you got me not trustin’ them airplanes neither.” 

 

“I’ll be fine.” She kisses him for a long moment, until they’re forced to pull apart. “I love you.”

 

“Love you too, baby,” he says. 

 

She gives his hand one more squeeze before shouldering her backpack and pulling up the handle on her ratty, old suitcase. She waves sadly, and Daryl watches her fade into the crowd until she disappears entirely through a revolving door. He huffs and goes back to the driver’s seat. Henry is already whining.

 

“Me too, boy,” Daryl says sympathetically, turning on the ignition. “She’ll be home soon, though. And tell you what, we’re gonna go stop and see Uncle Rick before headin’ home. That’ll help, right?”

 

Henry rests his chin on the center console and sighs heavily. 

 

Daryl feels the same.

 

—-

 

(11:27a) *Hello from the past.*

 

(11:28a) -wut?-

 

(11:28a) -also r u in denver now?-

 

(11:29a) *Yes, Denver in the past. I went back in time. It's 9:30 here.*

 

(11:30a) -o yeah timezones-

 

(11:30a) -how was the 1st flight? were u scared?-

 

(11:32a) *Jury's still out on airplanes tbh.*

 

(11:32a) *The pros were that I got free diet coke, being in the sky was pretty cool, and one of the in-flight entertainment options was the fourth season of 30 Rock.*

 

(11:33a) *Cons were that to get in the air the plane has to go rly rly rly fast and it kind of feels like you're gonna crash, I had a middle seat which meant I was the lunch meat of a sandwich, and also my ears hurt, the gum did not help.*

 

(11:33a) *We'll see how round two goes. They board in like 45ish min. I am going to attempt to find a food because I am fucking starving. Those peanuts they give you don't exactly hit the spot.*

 

(11:34a) -sounds like a mixed bag-

 

(11:34a) -glad u got there safe-

 

(11:35a) *Yeah, well, still got one more flight to go. Maybe we'll crash into the Rocky Mountains.*

 

(11:36a) -dnt say thngs like tht-

 

(11:37a) *It's like an opposite jinx. If I say the worst case scenario then it won't happen.*

 

(11:38a) -still plz dnt die-

 

(11:38a) -henry wud b real sad-

 

(11:39a) *Ok, but just for Henry.*

 

(11:39a) *You still in Atlanta?*

 

(11:40a) -yeah im @ ricks place doin nthn rly prob will head home in a bit idk-

 

(11:48a) *I had two options for food near my gate. One was a nice healthy salad that cost $11, and the other was Burger King. Guess which one I'm getting.*

 

(11:50a) -i hope bk bc y tf wud u spend $11 on lettuce?-

 

(11:53a) *Precisely my sentiments. This is very confusing, btw, because technically it's breakfast time here but my body says it's lunch time, so I'm eating a breakfast sandwich but in my heart it feels Wrong.*

 

(11:54a) -doubt ull go 2 prison 4 it-

 

(11:57a) *If I do will you bond me out?*

 

(11:58a) -ofc-

 

(11:58a) -itll have 2 b from the $ we're saving 4 a car 4 me tho so i hope u dnt mind me borrowing the chevy sum more-

 

(12:00p) *Eh you use your bike most of the time anyway.*

 

(12:01p) *There are a lot of people going to San Diego and I wish there weren't.*

 

(12:01p) *Jury's out on airplanes but I can safely say I am not a fan of airports.*

 

(12:02p) -i doubt id like either-

 

(12:03p) *No, you would not have a good time. That being said, I do wish you were coming with me. Traveling alone is sort of overwhelming.*

 

(12:03p) *Especially to a place I've never been to do things I've never done with people I've never met.*

 

(12:03p) *I'm making myself anxious, is it too late to come home?*

 

(12:04p) -ull b fine sweetheart-

 

(12:06p) *Source?*

 

(12:07p) -ur tough n can handle w/e happens-

 

(12:07p) -n i still think itll end up bein gud 4 u-

 

(12:08p) *So I have to get on the plane?*

 

(12:09p) -ya u gotta-

 

(12:10p) * :( *

 

(12:10p) *Fine.*

 

(12:11p) -u can txt me or call me whenever-

 

(12:13p) *Yeah, but the time difference is gonna make it annoying.*

 

(12:14p) -1 week we'll live-

 

(12:15p) *Ik ik ik…*

 

(12:16p) *Boarding…*

 

(12:16p) *This takes forever.*

 

(12:17p) -how big is the inside of the plane?-

 

(12:18p) *Disappointingly small, actually. I always imagined them being bigger, and not as crowded.*

 

(12:20p) *Oh good, there is a baby next to me, that'll be fun.*

 

(12:21p) -hopefully w/ a parent-

 

(12:22p) *Lol! Nah, he bought his own ticket.*

 

(12:22p) *Nah he's with who I assume is his mom? Cute, but if he screams I'm locking him in the bathroom.*

 

(12:23p) -no felonies i can only bond u out so many times-

 

(12:24p) *Yeah yeah.*

 

(12:24p) *They're saying we have to turn our phones off now. I'm not convinced there's any real reason for it but I'm not gonna risk blowing up the plane.*

 

(12:24p) *I'll text you when I land?*

 

(12:25p) -yes plz-

 

(12:25p) -i mite b driving bc im gna leave ricks here soon but i'll respond asap-

 

(12:26p) *Sounds good. I'll talk to you soon. Love you lots.*

 

(12:27p) -ttys ilu2 b safe-

 

(12:27p) * <3 *

 

—-

 

(2:34p) *Your girl is in California.*

 

(2:47p) *Gonna try and figure out how tf uber works so I can get to my hotel, wish me luck.*

 

(3:29p) -hey sry i just pulled up @ home did u figure it out?-

 

(3:50p) -say ur alive so i stop thinking ur uber driver killed u in the woods-

 

(4:02p) - :/ -

 

(4:10p) - _ you called carol _ -

 

(4:11p) -answer ur fone-

 

(4:15p) -r u dead?-

 

(4:20p) -ok ur dead-

 

(4:24p) *Ahhh! No I'm not! I'm sorry! I fell asleep!*

 

(4:25p) -jfc dnt do tht 2 me-

 

(4:26p) *I'm so so so sorry. I got to my hotel and tried to stay up to wait to hear from you but I was just fucking wiped. I fell asleep without even meaning to.*

 

(4:27p) -its fine u just scared me a lil-

 

(4:27p) -k more thn a lil-

 

(4:27p) -im v glad ur alive ilu-

 

(4:28p) *Love you too, I didn't mean to scare you.*

 

(4:29p) -its fine-

 

(4:29p) -hows cali?-

 

(4:30p) *Well besides an uber ride from the airport I've been asleep for most of my time here. I did see the ocean.*

 

(4:31p) -how was it?-

 

(4:32p) *Big. Blue. Presumably wet. Pretty similar to the one back east.*

 

(4:33p) -lmao-

 

(4:34p) *You ok?*

 

(4:35p) -yeah just-

 

(4:35p) -idk can i call u or r u abt 2 go do smthn?-

 

A moment later Daryl's phone buzzes in response. He answers on the second ring.

 

“Hey,” he says.

 

“Hi,” Carol replies, sounding groggy.

 

“Still tired?”

 

“I am, actually, I haven't woken up all the way.”

 

“All that traveling zapped you, huh?”

 

“Apparently. I slept on the plane, too. I think this timezone shit is messing with me already. Jet lag or whatever.”

 

“How's the hotel?”

 

“Fancier than I expected. Definitely not like that Motel 6 we stayed at last year.”

 

“That ain't exactly a high bar. We're lucky we didn't get no bedbugs stayin’ at that place.”

 

“It had its charms. How was the drive home?”

 

“Annoying. Our dumbass dog must have thought I was abandoning you or something ‘cause he cried the whole damn way. Two hours straight. He's still upset, but he gave up on crying and instead is just curled up on your side of the bed lookin’ sad.”

 

“Oh no! I scared you and made him sad and I've only been in California like two hours.”

 

“Yeah, but me and him are big piss-babies so don't feel too bad. Whaddya got planned for the rest of the day? It's like, what, close to two out there?”

 

“Yeah. Longest day of my fucking life. I should go take advantage of the free time and walk up to the beach or something before I have to go meet all those new people in the morning, but I kind of want to nap some more and watch TV. This hotel gets Lifetime.”

 

“You can watch Lifetime at home.”

 

“Yes. I can also watch it in this fancy room.”

 

“Pfft, you suck at travelin’.”

 

“You'd do the same thing, don't even lie.”

 

“Never said I'd be any better at it.”

 

“I should probably find food at some point. I need something decent to settle my stomach. Word of advice, don't eat Burger King and then get on a plane.”

 

“Noted. You okay?”

 

“Yeah, just need something starchy, and maybe a TUMS. Too tired to be bothered right now, though. That's a concern for evening Carol.”

 

“You want me to let you go so you can nap some more?”

 

“I guess. I might set an alarm. I don't want to be up all night ‘cause I slept all day. I'll text you later? Call you again before you go to bed?”

 

“Works for me. I just wanted to hear your voice for a minute.”

 

“Well here it is. I promise I'm okay, and come tomorrow I won't be all on my own anymore.”

 

“I know. You can take care of yourself. Don't mean I ain't gonna worry about you though.”

 

“You do worry about everything.”

 

“Exactly. 'Specially about things that matter.”

 

“Such a sap. Okay, I'll talk to you in a little bit.”

 

“Aight, sweetheart, get some rest.”

 

“Love you.”

 

“Love you, too.”

 

—-

 

_ January 17th _

_ Monday _

 

(8:12a) -im a piece of shit-

 

(8:17a) ~hi a piece of shit, i'm glenn.~

 

(8:20a) -i fukin h8 u-

 

(8:22a) >Great start to our Monday, guys! Keep up the good work!<

 

(8:22a) >Why are you a piece of shit, Daryl?<

 

(8:26a) -carols been gone like 1 day n im alrdy depressed-

 

(8:27a) -im pathetic w/ a capital p-

 

(8:29a) ~i like how you still spelled it with a lowercase p.~

 

(8:30a) >He has an aesthetic to maintain.<

 

(8:31a) -y did i thnk txting u guys wud make me feel better?-

 

(8:33a) ~Rofl, sorry, brother. We're just fucking with you. Have you heard from her yet today?<

 

(8:35a) -no its like 530 in the morn there n her stuff dsnt start until 9-

 

(8:38a) ~what is it she's doing again?~

 

(8:42a) -leadership conference her boss thot wud b gud 4 her-

 

(8:44a) ~what even is a leadership coffin?~

 

(8:45a) >It's where the leaders are laid to rest.<

 

(8:46a) ~fuck yourself.~

 

(8:48a) -lmao-

 

(8:48a) -idk its just some conference who knows-

 

(8:49a) -jfc my coworker just asked me y i look like i just dropped my ice cream cone on the cement fuk this i cant even pretend i dnt miss her its so obvious i h8 it-

 

(8:50a) -its been 1 fukin day-

 

(8:50a) -1-

 

(8:52a) >Yeah, but in your defense you guys haven't really been apart from each other for over six months and before that you were still basically tied at the hip.<

 

(8:56a) -this morn i woke up n thot abt how it was the 1st time we havent slept 2gether since moving into our shithole n i wnted 2 punch myself in the face-

 

(8:59a) ~okay, but we all remember how mopey i got when maggie and i first went long distance.~

 

(9:01a) >You were pretty insufferable.<

 

(9:02a) -ya but u actually dnt get 2 c her tht much. carols only gone until sun but i still am acting clingy af-

 

(9:05a) >Maybe it's because it's the first time you've been alone since making friends and it's bringing up bad memories? Like some part of you still worries about losing her, or us, or whatever all you've gained over the past year and however months?<

 

(9:07a) - :/ -

 

(9:07a) -u sound 2 much like a therapist im just gna b sad n dumb n h8 myself ovr it-

 

(9:09a) >That works too.<

 

(9:10a) ~she’ll be home in a few days and everything will go back to normal.~

 

(9:10a) ~unless she meets some sexy hollywood actor and they run off and elope.~

 

(9:12a) - :/// -

 

(9:13a) >Glenn, shut fuck up. Daryl, stop worrying about stupid shit Glenn says. She's not even in Los Angeles.<

 

(9:14a) -ya but theres a lot of guys in cali-

 

(9:15a) >There are a lot of guys in Georgia, but she picked you.<

 

(9:16a) -but there r like rich guys who surf n do idk w/e it is ppl in cali do-

 

(9:16a) -tan?-

 

(9:18a) ~for fuck's sake, daryl, i was kidding. do you really think she'd cheat on you?~

 

(9:21a) -ofc not-

 

(9:21a) -but she mite c wut shes missing bein stuck w/ me-

 

(9:23a) ~rick, fix this.~

 

(9:24a) >You're the one who told him she'd leave him for a movie star.<

 

(9:25a) ~i forgot who i was dealing with.~

 

(9:26a) ~daryl, repeat after me: “i am a hot piece of ass and carol is lucky to have me.”~

 

(9:29a) -plz drown in ur own vomit-

 

(9:31a) >Not quite verbatim.<

 

(9:32a) ~we’ll work on it.~

 

(9:33a) >In all seriousness though, Daryl, you're gonna be fine, and Carol is still gonna be disgustingly in love with you by the time she gets home.<

 

(9:34a) ~yeah, the sweetness of your relationship will continue to make us retch.~

 

(9:36a) -if u say so-

 

(9:36a) -i miss tf outta her tho-

 

(9:37a) -gonna be 1 long ass week-

 

—-

 

(10:05a) *Good morning my love, I have to go be emotionally vulnerable with strangers and am regretting everything. How are you?*

 

(10:07a) -workin n not tlking 2 anyone bc i was bitchy 2 axel n now theyre all avoiding me-

 

(10:10a) *Starting your day off right, then! Maybe that's what I should do. I'll be a total asshole and then no one will want to talk to me.*

 

(10:12a) -nah u gotta b nice-

 

(10:15a) *How come I have to be nice but you don't?*

 

(10:16a) -bc i can b an asshole n still fix cars-

 

(10:16a) -u gotta b nice 2 make the trip worth it-

 

(10:21a) *My hair isn’t listening to me so I can’t go.*

 

(10:24a) -when has ur hair ever listened 2 u?-

 

(10:28a) *Lmao shut up.*

 

(10:31a) - _ carol sent a photo _ -

 

(10:32a) *Which outfit do you like better.*

 

(10:34a) -r u srsly asking me 4 fashion advice?-

 

(10:34a) -u dragged me 2 target last week bc u were tired of all my shirts bein the same color-

 

(10:35a) *I didn't ask for advice, I asked which you liked better.*

 

(10:37a) -idk u look rly gud in everything-

 

(10:38a) *Omfg stop being a flirt and tell me which outfit you like more.*

 

(10:41a) -smh the blue one-

 

(10:43a) *I knew it. You always check me out when I'm wearing it.*

 

(10:47a) -stfu-

 

(10:50a) * _ carol sent a photo _ *

 

(10:51a) *I can't blame you, tbh, it makes me look like I actually have cleavage.*

 

(10:54a) -idk wut im sposed 2 say 2 tht-

 

(10:58a) *That you love my boobs even though they're tiny.*

 

(11:00a) -i mean-

 

(11:00a) -duh-

 

(11:02a) *They actually look really nice today. Almost a normal size.*

 

(11:03a) * _ carol sent a photo _ *

 

(11:06a) -jfc-

 

(11:06a) -tryna get me in trouble @ work-

 

(11:08a) *It's not a nude or anything, dummy. It's just a close up. A clothed close up.*

 

(11:09a) -still-

 

(11:11a) *Wish.*

 

(11:12a) -i wish 4 u 2 stop sexually harassing me-

 

(11:14a) *Lmao! You gonna file a complaint with HR?*

 

(11:15a) -mmhm-

 

(11:17a) *Well tough, bc you know saying your wish immediately negates it.*

 

(11:17a) *Unless that was your plan all along…?*

 

(11:20a) -¯\\_(ツ)_/¯-

 

(11:24a) *Flirt.*

 

(11:26a) *Ugh, I should leave and try and figure out where I'm supposed to be going.*

 

(11:26a) *We're meeting in the convention center attached to the hotel and it is tall and big and I will probably get lost.*

 

(11:27a) *Wanna hear the morning agenda?*

 

(11:30a) -sure-

 

(11:32a) *Introductions and icebreakers, “What is Huntington's Disease?”, and then group discussion until lunch.*

 

(11:34a) -tht sounds uh…-

 

(11:35a) *Like your actual nightmare, it's okay, you can say it. The first couple days are broken up into sessions, and then the latter part of the week is the touchy feely, kumbaya, let's really Get to Know Each Other stuff.*

 

(11:35a) *Not feeling too confident about all this.*

 

(11:37a) -ik but hey u kno wut?-

 

(11:38a) *Hm?*

 

(11:39a) -at least its not french class-

 

(11:40a) *Lol!*

 

(11:40a) *I love you.*

 

(11:41a) *K, I'm gonna go find this place. Talk to you when I can, sugar plum.*

 

(11:42a) -ttyl try 2 get smthn out of it-

 

(11:43a) *We'll see how bad the icebreaker games are and go from there.*

 

(11:43a) *Byee <3*

 

—-

 

(3:02p) *Mon chéri.*

 

(3:04p) -hey-

 

(3:04p) -hows it goin so far?-

 

(3:07p) *Everyone is very friendly. It's kind of unsettling.*

 

(3:07p) *I feel like you bc I'm at lunch with a couple of them but I'm sort of ignoring them to text you instead.*

 

(3:10p) -wut r they like besides friendly?-

 

(3:13p) *Idk, a lot of them already know each other bc they've been to this type of thing before and the community is p small. Most of the people are older than me.*

 

(3:14p) *There's this one dude who's our age who's alright. I sat next to him and he kept cracking jokes under his breath that only I could hear, which almost got me in trouble cuz I had to try not to laugh.*

 

(3:20p) -how bad were the icebreakers?-

 

(3:22p) *They made us play 2 truths and a lie, so pretty terrible.*

 

(3:24p) -wutd u use?-

 

(3:27p) *I once broke my best friend's ankle, I snuck $20 worth of snacks from the dollar store into the movie theater, and I have a cat named Henry.*

 

(3:29p) *I figured it was pretty easy but everyone doubted my ability to sneak food into movie theaters.*

 

(3:33p) -u r v gud at it-

 

(3:35p) *I ended up showing them my Henry locket.*

 

(3:35p) *How was he this morning?*

 

(3:38p) -irritating he tore up a whole thing of paper towels n he barked @ me whn i put him in his kennel-

 

(3:39p) -hes a dick whn ur gone-

 

(3:39p) -tho tbf ig i am 2 since my cowrkrs r still avoiding me-

 

(3:41p) *My moody boys.*

 

(3:41p) *6 days*

 

(3:45p) -lol u say tht like 6 days isnt 4ever-

 

(3:45p) -me n him r idiots n r bad @ bein left home alone-

 

(3:47p) *I know, mon chéri. I miss you too. Just promise me you'll try to eat something other than Hot Pockets.*

 

(3:50p) -ofc-

 

(3:50p) -i had fruit loops 4 dinner-

 

(3:50p) -not a hot pocket in site-

 

(3:52p) *I know for a fact there's leftover roast in the fridge, how are you already resorting to cereal?*

 

(3:54p) -no point heatin all tht food 4 just 1 person-

 

(3:55p) -u stop worrying abt me n go do ur grp activity shit me n henry will live-

 

(3:57p) *We get to learn about the statistics and prevalence of the disease!*

 

(3:58p) -ik ur bein sarcastic but try n b positive-

 

(3:59p) *Pot meet kettle.*

 

(3:59p) *But fine, I'll call you tonight. Later, sweet potato.*

 

(4:00p) -lmao bye-

 

—-

 

(10:19p) *Finally back at my hotel room. I am so tired.*

 

(10:22p) -how was the rest of the day?-

 

(10:23p) *Can I call?*

 

(10:23p) -duh-

 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Daryl says when he answers the phone.

 

“Hello, I want to sleep for a million years.”

 

“You sound exhausted.”

 

“That is because I am.”

 

“Ain't it only like seven thirty out there?”

 

“Yes, but I have had a long day.”

 

“Good or bad?”

 

“Undetermined. Weird, I think, and sort of uncomfortable, but we'll see how it goes after I've had a little more time to adjust.”

 

“How you feelin’? Mentally, I mean.”

 

“Okay. We didn't really get into tough stuff today. The most we did was vaguely talk about why we're here. A few people mentioned whether or not they know their status. For the most part, though, it was just bad icebreakers and information dumps. Some of it was interesting, though.”

 

“How’re the people?”

 

“Some are really peppy, so obviously I'm steering clear of them. Some are chill. Chris and I are kind of the outcasts, though, so we've sort of become conference buddies.”

 

“That the dude you talked about this morning?”

 

“Yeah. I talked to him for a while when sessions got out. He's from Nebraska, and I guess his dad is in late stages. He hasn't been tested either; said he doesn't want to.”

 

“Glad you got a friend.”

 

“Pfft, don't sound all jealous, pookie, I'm still your girl.”

 

“Shush.”

 

“You're ridiculous. How was your day?”

 

“Boring. Fixed a radiator. Ate some more cereal. I'm watching Lifetime movies with Henry, who's still being an ass.”

 

“Ooh, let me turn on Lifetime and we can watch together.” There's the sound of rustling on the other end, and then muffled noises from her TV. “The one with the girl who kills the cheerleader. Nice.”

 

“Seen it like three times.”

 

“Watch it with me anyway?”

 

“'Course.”

 

He sits his phone on his chest and puts it on speaker, laughing at Carol's occasional quip. It's almost like having her home.

 

Almost.

 

—-

 

_ January 20th _

_ Thursday _

 

“Goddamnit, get your head in the fucking game, Daryl,” Glenn says, his voice filtering into Daryl's cheap drug store headphones. 

 

“Like you're playing any better,” comes Rick's voice, and Glenn scoffs.

 

Daryl's propped up against the backboard of the queen sized bed with the weird dip in the middle that he and Carol bought on Craigslist. His laptop is balanced on his legs, his wireless mouse in his hand on a mousepad on top of his comforter. He's half-heartedly playing a first person shooter, not really feeling game night tonight.

 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, making a stupid move that gets him hit again.

 

“You suck more than usual today, man, what gives?” asks Glenn.

 

“Nothin’,” he says.

 

“You sound depressed as hell,” Rick says. Daryl grunts in response.

 

“She's home on Sunday, right? Only a couple more days,” says Glenn.

 

“I know, but it ain't just that,” Daryl says. The other two wait for him to elaborate. With a sigh, he explains, “She's off doin’ all this important shit, and havin’ new experiences, and I ain't ever gonna be that type of person, you know? I'm a homebody, I don't need much to keep me happy, but what if she does? What if it's just a matter of time before she realizes I'm boring as fuck, and she'd rather have someone like Chris.”

 

“Who the fuck is Chris?” asks Glenn. “Oh goddamnit,” he adds as he takes a particularly bad hit.

 

“That's the guy you said she made friends with, right?” asks Rick. “Don't tell me you're still hung up on that.”

 

“Are you gonna have this crisis whenever she talks to another dude? C'mon Daryl, don't be that guy,” Glenn says.

 

“No, I ain't gonna tell her who to be friends with or whatever, but she keeps talkin’ about this dude. I guess he's traveled all the fuck over the place, and he's goin’ to college, and he's got money, plus they got some... important shit in common. I dunno.”

 

“Jealousy's not a good look on you, brother,” says Rick, and Daryl sighs.

 

“I know. That's why I ain't said nothin’ to her 'cause I know how stupid I sound. It's just…”

 

“Just what? Glenn, cover me or get out of the way, you idiot.”

 

“Just nothin’, I dunno.”

 

“Liar,” says Glenn. 

 

“Just what, Daryl?”

 

“Ugh. Just, I feel like she matters to me way more than I matter to her. Not that I don't think she loves me or somethin’, I know she does, but if we broke up or whatever she'd be okay, but I ain't gotta clue where I'd be—Glenn, you just shot me.”

 

“My bad.”

 

“So you gotta work on being more independent, that's fine, but why are you so convinced she's gonna—god fucking damnit, I almost had him but I ran out of ammo—why are you convinced she's gonna break up with you?”

 

“Yeah, like, other than you just being insanely insecure, has she ever given you reason to think she's unhappy?”

 

“Where’d you guys learn to aim? And I guess not.”

 

“Stop making up reasons to doubt your relationship, then, you stupid, anxious dipshit,” says Glenn resolutely.

 

“Plus, you can always, you know, talk to her when you're worried,” Rick reminds him.

 

“Sounds fake,” Daryl mumbles. “I'm goin’ after that dude, cover me.”

 

“I got you, my tight-lipped friend,” says Glenn.

 

“Right behind you,” says Rick. 

 

Daryl plunges ahead.

 

—-

 

Daryl’s doing what he’s been doing every night—lying on their ugly, floral print, thrift store couch, half paying attention to the TV—when his phone buzzes beside him. He picks it up, the background lit up with the picture of Carol curled up with Henry he has as her contact photo. He smiles at it before swiping up to answer the call.

 

“Hey,” he says.

 

“Hi, I’m sad,” comes Carol’s voice, and Daryl frowns.

 

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” 

 

“We spent the whole day talking about all the  _ bad _ things. It was like grief group except instead of one hour it was the entire day, and then we all went out to dinner and talked about it some more. I don’t get how these people are so willing to just toss all their feelings and problems out there in the open. Don’t they know it’s an option to bury it all deep inside and ignore it?”

 

“I don’t get it either. Guess some people are well-adjusted.”

 

“Sounds fake.”

 

“Right? Did you talk about anything with ‘em?”

 

“Ugh, yes, it was terrible. I talked about how the anniversary of mom’s death is in two weeks, and they wanted to  _ discuss _ it.”

 

“Gross. Proud of you, though.” 

 

“When I told them she died the day after my birthday, Chris said, ‘Wow, what a shitty birthday present, she could have gotten you and iPad or something instead,’ and I was the only one who laughed, it was hilariously awkward.”

 

“Mm, bet that made them older folks real uncomfortable.”

 

“It did, it was great.”

 

“What’re you up to now?”

 

“Ha, I’m already in bed. It’s only eight. Everyone went to drink and hang out at one of the people’s hotel room, but I didn’t have it in me. I’ve been so tired this whole week.”

 

“Your insomnia gettin’ bad again?”

 

“No, I haven’t even been waking up every couple hours at night like usual; I’ve slept like a rock. It’s all this socializing and emotional vulnerability, it’s draining me of all my energy.”

 

“Make sure you’re takin’ care of yourself.”

 

“I am, I promise.”

 

“You skippin’ meals?”

 

“Just breakfast, but that’s because the human body wasn’t designed to consume anything but coffee before noon.”

 

“Not sure that’s true.”

 

“Pick your battles, baby.” 

 

“Pfft, alright.”

 

“Hey, guess what?”

 

“What?”

 

“I miss you.”

 

“I miss you, too.” 

 

“I know this is good for me, and I’m glad I came, but I’ll be honest, I’m real excited to come home on Sunday.”

 

“Yeah, same.”

 

“Is Henry there?”

 

“Yeah, he’s on the floor chewing on a deer hoof I found.”

 

“Gross. Can I talk to him?”

 

“Ha, sure, one sec.” Daryl puts the phone on speaker and holds it out to Henry. “Someone wants to say hi to you,” he tells him.

 

“Hello, sweet boy,” Carol says. At the sound of her voice, Henry pops right up and starts sniffing the phone.

 

“He knows it’s you,” Daryl says.

 

“Of course he does, he loves me. Don’t you, Henry?” Henry thwaps his tail against the coffee table and lets out a pained ‘aroo’ sound. Carol laughs. “Good boy. You behave yourself for your father and I’ll be home in a couple days, alright?”

 

“He just tried to lick the phone,” Daryl says, pushing Henry away by his snout. He takes her off speaker and says, “You know he’s gonna whine all night now, don’t you?”

 

“Mm, sounds like a you problem.”

 

“Ass.” 

 

“Shush, you love me.”

 

“Don’t mean you ain’t an ass.” 

 

“I suppose that’s true,” Carol says through a yawn. “God, is it pathetic to go to bed so early?”

 

“Why not? No one’s gonna stop you.”

 

“Good, because I’m seriously falling asleep.”

 

“Get some rest, darlin’.” 

 

“Okay. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Two more days.”

 

“Two more days. Love the hell outta you.”

 

“You, too. Goodnight.”

 

“G’night.” 

 

—-

 

_ January 23nd _

_ Sunday (early) _

 

(1:32a) *Babyyy. You awake?*

 

(1:34a) -mhm wsup?-

 

(1:35a) *Did you know*

 

(1:35a) *That you are a very attractive man?*

 

(1:37a) -um-

 

(1:37a) -ty-

 

(1:38a) *I love how we’ve been together nearly a year and you still get all embarrassed that I think you’re super hot.*

 

(1:40a) -anyway-

 

(1:41a) *You are really hot tho. Jsyk.*

 

(1:42a) -rite r u drunk?-

 

(1:43a) *No.*

 

(1:43a) *Tipsy tho.*

 

(1:44a) -ah-

 

(1:45a) *They convinced me to go to the going away party thing. I only stayed a couple hours.*

 

(1:46a) -howd the last day go?-

 

(1:47a) *Fine. That’s boring to talk about tho. Let’s talk about something else.*

 

(1:48a) -mmmk like wut?-

 

(1:50a) * _ carol sent a photo _ *

 

(1:51a) -.................-

 

(1:51a) -o-

 

(1:52a) *I’m looking forward to seeing you tomorrow can you tell?*

 

(1:53a) -yeah-

 

(1:53a) -i am 2-

 

(1:54a) * _ carol sent a photo _ *

 

(1:55a) -jfc-

 

(1:56a) *I have no idea what they were talking about at that party bc I was thinking about you the whole time.*

 

(1:56a) *Very possible that I might jump you the second we get home from the airport hope that’s ok.*

 

(1:57a) -it is-

 

(1:58a) *Good ‘cause lbr I’ve missed more than just your company.*

 

(1:59a) -same-

 

(2:00a) *Do me a favor and make sure we have condoms. More than one preferably.*

 

(2:01a) -yes ma’am-

 

(2:01a) -whens ur appnt @ planned parenthood for tht arm implant thing again?-

 

(2:02a) *They couldn’t get me in until mid-Feb smh.*

 

(2:02a) *We’ll have to make do.*

 

(2:03a) -fine w/ me-

 

(2:04a) *It’s late there. Go to sleep. We’ll pick this up tomorrow.*

 

(2:05a) * _ carol sent a photo _ *

 

(2:05a) *To tide you over until then.*

 

(2:06a) -pfft ya im gna go 2 slp rn after seein tht-

 

(2:07a) *Lol! Well, do what you need to do. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.*

 

(2:08a) -best thng ive heard in ages-

 

(2:08a) -ilu-

 

(2:09a) *You too.* 

 

(2:09a) *See you soon.*

 

—-

 

_ January 23rd _

_ Sunday (normal human hour) _

 

Daryl leans against Carol’s Chevy, arms crossed, in the same place he dropped her off a week prior, scanning the crowd anxiously, trying to catch a glimpse of her. He chews his lip and drums his fingers against his elbow impatiently. Finally, he sees her auburn curls shoved into a messy bun, and a second later she emerges from in between the bustle of people, a giant grin on her face, and he can’t help but smile back.

 

Without a word she runs over, drops the handle to her suitcase, and wraps her arms around him. He hugs her back so tightly he lifts her clear off the ground. She laughs, and when he sits her back down she takes hold of his face and kisses him thoroughly. It’s the most tremendous feeling of relief. 

 

“Hey,” he says once they’ve pulled apart, searching her face with a smile and brushing some flyaway hairs back behind her ears.

 

“Hello,” she says back, arms looped lazily around his neck. “You miss me?”

 

“Eh,” Daryl says. She laughs and shoves him backwards into the car. It’s then that they both notice the very frantic dog pawing at the window. “Think you should say hi to him?” Daryl asks mildly.

 

“I  suppose it may be the merciful thing to do.” 

 

Daryl cracks the back door open and wrestles a hysterical Henry in order to clip on his leash.

 

“Incoming,” Daryl warns, and then steps away so that Henry can jump down and immediately jump up onto Carol.

 

“Hi, boy,” Carol says, crouching down and ruffling Henry’s fur while he gives her wet kisses. “Why don’t you love me this much?” she asks Daryl through her laughs.

 

“Don’t think it’s possible.”

 

“He is very fascinated in how I smell, apparently,” she muses. Henry is sniffing her clothes loud enough that they can hear it. 

 

“It’s all that California on you. He’s wonderin’ why you smell like avocados and smog.” 

 

“Guess so,” she says, standing back up. Daryl has to practically yank Henry away from whatever smells so fascinating on her shirt.

 

“Ready to go home?” he asks once he’s got Henry shoved back into the car.

 

“So ready,” Carol says. Daryl take her suitcase and backpack from her and puts it in the trunk.

 

“Let’s go,” he says.

 

—-

 

Daryl lies on his side, wrapped around Carol, tracing his fingers lightly up and down her arm. Their clothes are strewn about the living room, the hallway, and the bedroom. He presses his lips against the freckles on her shoulder. He is feeling deeply, deeply in love.

 

“Glad you’re home,” he mumbles against the crook of her neck. Carol hums.

 

“Glad to be home,” she replies, shifting closer to Daryl so that his front is flush against her back. 

 

“Sorry I’m so clingy,” Daryl says after a beat. “House is just shitty when you’re gone.”

 

“I don’t think you’re clingy. It’s our first time apart, it was never gonna be easy.”

 

“I know. I just don’t want you feelin’ like you can’t go off and do things you wanna do ‘cause you’re worried about me bein’ lonely. I want you to do whatever will make you happy.”

 

“ _ You _ make me happy.”

 

“You know what I mean.”

 

“Mm, I guess. I don’t feel suffocated by you, Daryl, do you think I do?”

 

“I dunno.”

 

Carol shifts around so that the two of them are facing each other. She furrows her brow at him.

 

“No one is more supportive of me than you. If I wanted to go travel the world or go to a million conferences or whatever else, I know you’d be the first person cheering me on.”

 

Daryl chews on the inside of his cheek for a moment, before asking, “ _ Do _ you wanna do those things?”

 

“I dunno,” Carol says honestly. “The only thing I know right now is that I’m happy here, and that’s enough. Maybe you have future controlling superpowers, but I think this week I learned that I don’t.” She frowns, looking thoughtful.

 

“What is it?” Daryl asks.

 

“I don’t think I’m gonna get tested,” she says. Daryl regards her.

 

“Okay,” he says. “Then you won’t get tested.” 

 

“You’re okay with that?”

 

“‘Course. And it wouldn’t be my decision even if I weren’t.” He brushes his thumb over her lips. “Why’re you suddenly so sure?”

 

“Just listening to people’s stories, I guess. It feels like knowing you’re positive just makes everything suddenly feel like a countdown. I don’t want that. Chris was saying he’s felt a lot freer ever since he decided not to do the test.” Daryl bristles a little, and must not hide it well, because Carol snorts at him. “Stop,” she says. “Don’t be jealous.”

 

“I ain’t,” he lies.

 

“You are, but you don’t need to be. Why would you be worried about something like that?”

 

“Dunno,” Daryl says, shaking his head. “There ain’t a lot to me. I pro’ly ain’t never gonna have a real fancy job or get a fancy degree, and I don’t know if that’s fair to you.” He averts his eyes from hers and shrugs. “Maybe you need more than that.”

 

“Daryl,” Carol says, gently lifting his chin to make him look at her again. “You let me decide what I need and what I don’t, okay?”

 

“‘Kay.”

 

“You know I talked about to him most of the time?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“You. I couldn’t shut up about you. There was never a moment where I felt like you weren’t enough.” Daryl smiles a little at that and lets her kiss him softly. “I love you, alright? Only you.”

 

“Love you, too,” Daryl says, lacing their fingers together and holding her tight. “Love you so bad it hurts. That's why the thought of losing you scares the shit out of me.”

 

“I'm not going anywhere,” Carol assures him, burrowing into him and yawning. “'Cept maybe to sleep.”

 

“Pfft,” Daryl laughs quietly. “That's fine with me.”

 

“Sleeping alone sucks,” she says.

 

“Good thing I'm here, then.”

 

“Mm,” Carol hums, already drifting off. “Good thing.”


	2. Risks and Chicken Pot Pie

_ January 30th _

_ Sunday _

 

(12:22p) *Has Henry seemed off to you at all?*

 

(12:30p) -no y?-

 

(12:32p) *Idk he's been acting weird.*

 

(12:33p) -?-

 

(12:35p) *He's been like /glued/ to my side lately, more than usual, which is saying something.*

 

(12:35p) *And I just got back from taking him on a walk to the park and I ran into this woman and her dog that I see around there sometimes, and her dog tried to jump up and say hi to me and Henry straight up /growled/ at him.*

 

(12:38p) -growled?-

 

(12:38p) -he aint nvr growled b4-

 

(12:39p) *Right? Even the lady who barely knows him commented on how it seemed out of character.*

 

(12:42p) -he actin sick?-

 

(12:44p) *Not really? After the other dog left he was fine, and he's his usual floppy, friendly self rn, but he won't let me get five feet away from him without having to follow me.*

 

(12:45p) -shud we take him 2 the vet?-

 

(12:49p) *I dunno, I don't think we need to yet, but just keep an eye out and see if he does anything else weird.*

 

(12:50p) -hm ok-

 

(12:51p) *He's not dying. Worst case he just needs a quick check up, ok?*

 

(12:52p) -mk-

 

(12:53p) *On a completely different note, I have some good news.*

 

(12:54p) -wut news?-

 

(12:56p) *So my boss called and told me that she's changing up the clinic hours. She said that she still wants to be open later, but that she feels like she's stretching all of us too thin right now and we're understaffed, so the new hours are M-F 7a to 7p, and then 9a to 5p on the weekends.*

 

(12:57p) *She's taking me off the 2-10 shift and putting me on 11-7 M-F. You and I will actually get to see each other again during the week, and not just for sex and half an episode of I Survived before we pass out.*

 

(12:59p) -thts awesome-

 

(12:59p) -mb ull get better patients in the daytime-

 

(1:03p) *Hopefully. Those after-business-hours folk certainly get weird. Remember that old guy I told you about who came in for a genital injury and asked if I wanted his number?*

 

(1:09p) -lmao yeah wut did u ever end up tellin him-

 

(1:10p) *I just played dumb and said “Oh, you mean for your file? No, that's ok we already have it.” And then he complimented my earrings and I told him my boyfriend got them for me.*

 

(1:10p) *You didn't, I've had them for like ten years, but he didn't need to know that.*

 

(1:12p) -nice-

 

(1:12p) -whn do u start ur new shift?-

 

(1:13p) *Tomorrow! She's not officially changing her hours for a couple weeks, but she wants me to train with the day staff and get used to the change.*

 

(1:20p) -sweet itll b nice havin u arnd-

 

(1:20p) -esp bc whn it gets dark out the house is kinda creepy-

 

(1:23p) *Babe, I keep telling you there is not a ghost in the basement and that stuff you keep hearing is in your imagination.*

 

(1:25p) -ya but u dnt believe in ghosts so how wud u kno?-

 

(1:27p) *Can't animals sense ghosts? Wouldn't Henry be freaked out by it?*

 

(1:28p) -u ever c him go 2 the basement? he avoids it-

 

(1:28p) -plus u said he was actin weird-

 

(1:30p) *Yeah, today. We've lived here for 8 months and he's never been bothered. There isn't a ghost.*

 

(1:33p) -sure-

 

(1:34p) -well either way im glad we get 2 work similar hrs finally-

 

(1:35p) *Me too. Maybe we should go to the $5 theater tomorrow evening to celebrate.*

 

(1:37p) -wuts playing-

 

(1:38p) *Let's find out.*

 

(1:39p) *Big Momma's House 2, a documentary about birth in the United States, and 13 Going on 30*

 

(1:42p) -yikes-

 

(1:43p) *Yeah, maybe we'll just order Chinese and watch I Survived.*

 

(1:44p) *Speaking of, I unfroze that ham hock from Thanksgiving and am making ham and beans in the slow cooker and there will be leftovers until armageddon happens so like, fair warning.*

 

(1:48p) -u kno thts better thn any meal id make i once ate nthn but frosted flakes for 2 weeks straight-

 

(1:51p) *How are you not dead?*

 

(1:52p) -¯\\_(ツ)_/¯-

 

(1:53p) *You're a disaster.*

 

(1:53p) *K, I did some adulting things so now I am gonna take a nap bc I am super tired.*

 

(1:56p) -uve been napping a lot r u ok?-

 

(1:57p) *I'm fine, mon chéri. Work's been busy and this weekend is, you know, the anniversary of things or whatever, and it's just taking its toll.*

 

(1:59p) -ok well dnt push urself 2 hard-

 

(2:00p) *I won't.*

 

(2:01p) * _ carol sent a photo _ *

 

(2:01p) *He insisted on coming with me for nap time so sorry if your side of the bed smells like dog.*

 

(2:03p) -the whole house smells like dog-

 

(2:05p) *I've tried every air freshener istg.*

 

(2:05p) *If I'm still asleep when you get home will you wake me up?*

 

(2:06p) -u still gna b asleep 3 hrs from now?-

 

(2:07p) *Don't judge. Your girl is tired! Let her live!*

 

(2:08p) -smh not judging just asking-

 

(2:09p) -i'll wake u up-

 

(2:10p) *Thank you, my sweet snowflake.*

 

(2:10p) *See you when you get home.*

 

(2:11p) -mhm ttys-

 

(2:12p) * <3 *

 

—-

 

Carol's in bed when Daryl gets home, but she's not asleep. She's curled up on her side under the blankets, scrolling mindlessly on her phone, Henry beside her with his chin resting on her hip.

 

“Hey,” she says when he enters the room. She yawns and rubs her eyes with the back of her hand and makes no moves to get up.

 

“Hi,” Daryl says, walking over and giving her a quick kiss to the forehead. “You just wake up?” he asks. He goes over to the dresser and pulls out a pair of sweats and a t-shirt and begins disrobing. He tugs his work shirt up over his head, and the scars on his back don't even come to mind, despite her watching him, and that never gets less astonishing.

 

“A little bit ago, yeah,” she says, sitting her phone down on the bedside table and wrapping her arms around her pillow, lying half on her side, half on her belly. Henry huffs at her movement and readjusts his own spot on the mattress. “Could probably sleep clear through the night if I wanted to, though.” Daryl frowns.

 

“You sure you're feeling okay?” he asks, tossing his dirty pants over into the hamper in the corner Carol makes sure he uses and pulling up his sweats.

 

“I'm fine, why?”

 

“I dunno, you just seem exhausted all the time lately,” Daryl says, leaning against the dresser with his arms crossed. He regards her. She doesn't look sick; her skin isn't flush, and she seems alert enough. 

 

“I've always had trouble with sleep,” she reminds him. “And like I said, this week is kind of a lot. Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that.”

 

“What about it?”

 

“Here, come lay down with me first. I don't wanna get up yet and you're too far away.”

 

With a slight nod, Daryl goes over to his side of the bed and shoves Henry to get him to jump down, but he doesn't budge. “Stop hoggin’ her and move,” he grunts at the dog. He ends up having to tug him by the collar before Henry finally relents and gets off onto the floor. 

 

“Told you he's been clingy,” Carol says, as Daryl climbs into the bed and under the covers. He pulls her into his arms. He glances over his shoulder and sees Henry just sitting there watching the two of them.

 

“He's being creepy,” Daryl says.

 

“Maybe the basement ghost possessed him.”

 

“Don't say things like that,” Daryl mumbles, and then to Henry he commands, “Kennel.”

 

Henry does not go to his kennel. Instead, he lies down on the floor, not staring quite as intently, and Daryl considers it a compromise.

 

“What'd you wanna talk about?” he asks Carol. 

 

“Ugh, so,” she says—a promising start. “My aunt called me a while ago—woke me up, actually, so that was annoying—and she requested you and I for supper at her place on Friday.”

 

“What?”

 

“Yeah, that was my reaction. She said she thought it would be nice for us to be together for the anniversary.”

 

“Does she not know the anniversary is Saturday, or did she actually remember your birthday?”

 

“She remembered, surprisingly enough, which is why she wanted it to be Friday. I think she wants to make up for forgetting last year, and doesn't want me focusing entirely on the anniversary on my birthday, because nothing will take my mind off things more than an awkward family supper.”

 

“And she wants  _ me _ to come?”

 

“Oh yeah, she requested you specifically. I think she wants to get to know you.”

 

“Don't like that.”

 

“Didn't think you would,  _ but _ …”

 

“... But what?”

 

“I dunno, my conscience doesn't want me to bail on her and have her be all alone thinking about her sister's death.”

 

“And you want me to come?”

 

Carol twists her body so she can see him and sticks out her lower lip.

 

“Would you?” she asks, eyes big. Daryl sighs, thwarted by his kryptonite—her.

 

“Fine,” he says flatly. “Your daddy ain't gonna be there though, right?”

 

“Better not be,” Carol says, turning away from him and fluffing her pillow a little. “If he is we'll just leave. It'll be fine, you know my aunt.”

 

“I've met her like, twice, and ain't held a real conversation with her ever.”

 

“Well then this Friday you can change that.”

 

Daryl does a scowl that goes unseen and grumbles, “You're real lucky I love you.”

 

“Don’t I know it,” Carol agrees. “By the way, I should remind you that my aunt's cooking can be seriously hit or miss. Even thinking about some of her misses is churning my stomach a bit.”

 

“I won't say nothin’ if it's terrible.”

 

“I know you won't, you'd eat sand if she served it to you just to avoid an awkward conversation. I'm just giving you time to prepare.”

 

“Thanks, I guess,” he says. He plays with the hem of her sleeve for a beat and asks, voice softer, “How are you doin’ with everything? You ain't said much other than it's makin’ you tired. It bringing back the bullshit?”

 

“Mm,” Carol says thoughtfully. “I've been trying not to think about it. I'm still emotionally drained from sharing so much at that conference, I haven't had it in me to think about…” she trails off, but Daryl understands.

 

“Well, however you end up feelin’ I'll be here for you, 'kay?”

 

“I know,” she says with a smile in her voice. “Thank you.”

 

“Ain't nothin’,” Daryl says, laughing at the predictable flick on the arm it earns him. 

 

“You're rotten,” she tells him. “I don't even feel bad dragging you to my aunt's.”

 

“I'll do it, but I will definitely bitch about it, fair warning.”

 

“I'd expect nothing less,” Carol says. She snuggles in closer to him. “The slow cooker should go for another hour before it's ready. Nap with me?”

 

“Okay,” Daryl says, resting his hand on a thin strip of her bare skin where her shirt has risen up from the waistline of her leggings.

 

He holds her and listens to her normal breaths fade into slow and heavy ones. He doesn't sleep, just kind of dozes in and out, soothed by the gentleness of her rest.

 

—-

 

_ February 4th _

_ Friday _

 

The sprightly alarm on Daryl’s phone that lets him wake up with a daily dose of rage goes off at 7:30 on the dot. Without lifting his face off the pillow, Daryl gropes blindly for his phone and swipes it silent using muscle memory. He rolls onto his back and blinks blearily up at the ceiling and notices the space beside him is empty. That’s not uncommon—even though she doesn’t work until eleven, and even when she was working a later second shift, Carol has always been an early riser. As of late, however, she’s been prone to sleeping in, so he’s met with mild surprise that she’s already up and about.

 

He forces himself out of bed and rummages through the dresser for his work clothes. While Carol keeps her things neat and orderly, his allotted drawers are haphazardly thrown together, items folded only in the most technical sense, and it takes him a minute to find what he’s looking for. He dresses, heads to the bathroom to make himself somewhat presentable, and goes out to the kitchen where he finds Carol scrubbing the sink.

 

“Hey,” he says, coming up behind her and placing a hand on her waist. He kisses her cheek and adds, “Happy birthday.”

 

“Thank you,” says Carol, pausing to lean into his touch briefly before going back to scrubbing.

 

“What are you doing?” he asks her, reaching up into the cabinet adjacent to them and pulling out a box of off-brand Captain Crunch. 

 

“Something in the kitchen smells bad and I can’t figure out what it is, so I’m just sort of cleaning everything,” she explains.

 

“Mm, I don’t smell anything,” Daryl muses, mouth full as he shoves a handful of dry cereal in his mouth straight from the box.

 

“How do you not smell that?” she asks, turning on the faucet to rinse out the suds in the sink. He shrugs. She twists her mouth and then tosses the rag over into a pile of kitchen towels she’s collected, presumably for washing, and then takes hold of the counter behind her and leans back against it, facing him. She looks a little off.

 

“How you doin’?” Daryl asks her, regarding her carefully. 

 

“I dunno,” she says, sounding distracted. “Kind of sad.”

 

“That’s fine.” She grimaces then and Daryl frowns at her. “Hey, you sure you're feelin’ okay?” he asks.

 

“Yeah, I’m alright,” she says, and no sooner do the words leave her lips does she abruptly spin around and vomit into her freshly washed sink.

 

“Oh shit,” Daryl says, surprised. He sits his box of cereal aside and goes to her. He bunches her hair and holds it back as she empties the contents of her stomach. He rubs her back until she’s done. He lets her collect herself before asking, “What was that about? You sick? Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

“I didn't think I was,” Carol says, voice wet and weak. Daryl tears off a paper towel and hands it to her. She wipes off her nose and mouth and then turns the faucet on again, cupping her shaking hand to collect water. She brings the water to her mouth, swishes it around, spits it, and then repeats the action a couple more times. “I've had a sour stomach for the past couple days, but that's the first time I've thrown up.”

 

“You said the flu was goin’ around work, right?” Daryl asks, reaching out to feel her forehead. Her skin is cool to the touch. “You ain't got a fever.”

 

“I mean, it's still flu season, we've got people in and out constantly. I don't think I have the flu, though, it doesn't feel like it. I think it's stress.”

 

“I seen you pretty fuckin’ stressed before but I've never seen you barf from it,” Daryl points out.

 

“This is new territory, though, isn't it?” Carol says. “It's a lot of shitty memories coming up all at once, and for once I'm not letting myself bury all of it. My body doesn't know what to do with itself with all this  _ feeling _ .”

 

“Mm,” Daryl says, unconvinced. “Maybe you should call into work just in case.”

 

“I already feel better,” she insists. 

 

“Should we tell your aunt you're sick? If it's really stress then that ain't helpin’, surely?”

 

“No, I can't do that to her.” Carol gives Daryl what is probably meant to be a reassuring smile, but that comes off as deflective, and says, “You're gonna be late if you keep fussing over me. I just got too worked up. Let me clean up the sink—again—and then it'll be fine.”

 

Daryl looks her over skeptically.

 

“If you throw up again will you promise to call in?” he asks.

 

“No sense calling in over something that's not contagious.”

 

“You got the sick time banked, take the day if you need to. Nap all afternoon if you gotta.”

 

“Daryl,” she says.

 

“Carol,” he counters. She rolls her eyes.

 

“Yes, okay, if I get sick again I'll call into work,” she says.

 

“Promise?”

 

“Oh my god.  _ Yes _ . Now get out of here so I can wipe my throw up out of the kitchen sink in peace.”

 

Daryl, reluctant to leave her, not entirely confident in her self-care abilities, sighs.

 

“Aight,” he mumbles. He checks her for a temperature with the back of his hand one more time for good measure. He kisses the top of her head and says, “You text me if you start feelin’ worse.”

 

“I will,” Carol says. He has no way of knowing if she really will or not. Stubborn to a T is an understatement.

 

“We'll go over to your aunt's once you're off work? Assuming you go?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“'Kay, well…” He drums his fingers against his thigh.

 

“It was a fluke, Daryl, I'm fine. Go to work.”

 

Daryl nods reluctantly. “Love you,” he tells her. 

 

“I love you, too,” she says with an air of finality, letting him know she's not going to allow any more hovering. He knows better than to press the issue. He finds his keys and bike helmet and shows himself to the door.

 

—-

 

(11:59a) ~i’m gonna change my major.~

 

(11:59a) ~i don't know why i thought business would be an interesting thing to study. it's not. it's boring, and i am so ready to be done with this intro class.~

 

(12:03p) >What are you switching to?<

 

(12:06p) ~not sure, but i'm going through the list of offered areas of study.~

 

(12:07p) ~they have archeology. maybe i should be an archeologist.~

 

(12:11p) >Have you ever in your life wanted to be an archeologist or did you see it just now and think “cool”?<

 

(12:13p) ~...i don't appreciate the interrogation.~

 

(12:15p) -thtd b p cool tho 2 dig up dinosaurs n shit-

 

(12:19p) >I think like half of it is just digging holes and hoping you find something interesting.<

 

(12:22p) ~you’re not an archeologist, so what do you know?~

 

(12:24p) >More than you, most days.<

 

(12:28p) ~maybe i'll study psychology.~

 

(12:30p) >What the hell would you do with a psychology degree?<

 

(12:31p) -aint tht 4 therapists n shit?-

 

(12:33p) ~it can be. should i be a therapist?~

 

(12:34p) -no way-

 

(12:34p) >No, absolutely not.<

 

(12:35p) ~ :/ ~

 

(12:36p) >The HIPAA violations alone would be reason enough not to become a therapist.<

 

(12:37p) ~why are you so sure i'd violate hipaa??~

 

(12:38p) >Glenn, you can't keep a secret. How are you going to have people come to you and air out aaaaall their dirty laundry to you every day and then keep it confidential?<

 

(12:39p) ~i kept daryl's secret didn't i?~

 

(12:41p) -doesnt count-

 

(12:42p) >Besides, you told me so technically no you didn't.<

 

(12:44p) ~yeah, but you're the only one i told.~

 

(12:45p) >Okay, but only telling one person is still violating a patient's rights.<

 

(12:47p) ~whatever. if they're gonna be that anal about confidentiality then who needs 'em?~

 

(12:48p) >Rofl.<

 

(12:51p) -prob 4 the best id nvr tlk 2 u again if u were a therapist-

 

(12:51p) -bad enuf tht ricks a cop-

 

(12:53p) ~what’s wrong with therapists?~

 

(12:55p) -some person in ur head tellin u all ur problems r cuz of daddy issues or w/e? no thnx-

 

(12:57p) ~maggie sees a therapist and she says she gets a lot out of it.~

 

(1:00p) >Did Maggie ask you to keep that to yourself?<

 

(1:02p) ~oh son of a bitch.~

 

(1:03p) -idiot-

 

(1:05p) >I don't think anyone in my family has ever been to a therapist. I don't know if they're like how they are in movies where they're all “so how does that make you feel?” or whatever.<

 

(1:08p) -i dnt c the point-

 

(1:09p) -hows sum stranger gonna tell me my business better thn i can?-

 

(1:09p) -daryl ur fuked up bc ur mom burned 2 death n ur dad beat u all the time-

 

(1:10p) -wow thnx like i didnt alrdy kno tht-

 

(1:13p) ~isn’t the point for it to be someone who's objective so they can tell you how and when you're acting bonkers?~

 

(1:17p) -id rather just b bonkers-

 

(1:20p) ~so i'm guessing you're not going to be seeing a thesaurus anytime soon.~

 

(1:21p) >Of course he won't, he only uses two syllable words, three max.<

 

(1:22p) -fuk off-

 

(1:23p) >See?<

 

(1:24p) ~are you guys ever gonna learn to take context clues?~

 

(1:26p) >Are you ever gonna turn off autocorrect?<

 

(1:29p) ~if you can't handle me at my worst you don't deserve me at my best.~

 

(1:31p) -whn do we get 2 c ur best?-

 

(1:32p) >Yeah, seems like a lot of worst to me.<

 

(1:33p) ~you know, one day i'm going to leave you for better, nicer friends.~

 

(1:37p) -tht dude w/ the mullet?-

 

(1:38p) ~no, probably not him.~

 

(1:40p) >Gonna finally make nice with your roommate.<

 

(1:43p) ~......no thank you.~

 

(1:43p) ~he talks to his baseball bat.~

 

(1:43p) ~it has a name.~

 

(1:45p) >Looks like you're stuck with us then.<

 

(1:46p) -¯\\_(ツ)_/¯-

 

(1:48p) ~sigh.~

 

(1:49p) ~anyway. daryl, are you and carol still going to her aunt's place tonight?~

 

(1:54p) -mhm prob-

 

(1:54p) -carol was sick this morn but she said she felt better n she went 2 work so idk-

 

(1:55p) -u kno her tho she'd wait until she was spewing blood everywhere b4 admitting smthns wrong-

 

(1:57p) ~i bet even then she'd find a way to write it off.~

 

(1:58p) -lmao prob-

 

(2:00p) >Does she know about the birthday present yet?<

 

(2:06p) -nah not yet-

 

(2:06p) -as far as she knows her aunt n i have nvr rly tlked b4-

 

(2:09p) >So you're not doing your usual freakout about having to go do an awkward social thing?<

 

(2:13p) -no i am i dnt wnt 2 go at all-

 

(2:13p) -but its important 2 her-

 

(2:13p) -kinda worried the present is bad-

 

(2:17p) ~what? why? is like, genuinely the sweetest thing you could have done.~

 

(2:19p) -ig but its not exactly cheery-

 

(2:24p) >Maybe not, but it's heartfelt and honestly is probably going to mean the world to her.<

 

(2:26p) ~i am constantly enraged that daryl is such a good boyfriend.~

 

(2:27p) >You do set the standards like, sky high.<

 

(2:32p) -idk wtf ur tlkin abt but ok-

 

(2:36p) ~i think it's worse that he's oblivious.~

 

(2:39p) >Oh yeah, it's infuriating.<

 

(2:43p) - :/ -

 

(2:43p) -anyway-

 

(2:44p) -u rly think it’ll go ovr ok?-

 

(2:47p) >Yes. All jokes aside, I don't think you understand how nice of a gift it really is.<

 

(2:49p) -im just real shitty @ giving gifts idk-

 

(2:52p) ~except you're really not.~

 

(2:56p) >Like, maybe if you had to bring a white elephant gift to a work party you'd suck at it. But not this.<

 

(2:57p) ~it’s sweet as fuck tbh. you done good, champ.~

 

(3:00p) -wtf nvr call me champ again?-

 

(3:03p) ~¯\\_(ツ)_/¯~

 

(3:05p) >Rofl. Daryl, tell Carol happy birthday from us. She's always been weird about her friends celebrating her or giving her attention, so I didn't want to text her.<

 

(3:07p) ~lmfao i texted her, but you can still tell her.~

 

(3:10p) -shes better abt tht stuff now i think anyway-

 

(3:10p) -i'll let her kno tho-

 

(3:12p) >Appreciated.<

 

(3:12p) >It'll go fine tonight.<

 

(3:13p) ~i agree.~

 

(3:18p) -thnx-

 

(3:19p) -hope ur rite-

 

—-

 

Daryl lies on his back on the living room floor, lazily rolling a ball across the room for Henry to go fetch and bring back to him with a happy, drooly grin. He checks the time. Carol should be home soon, and then they’re going to her aunt’s house right after that, and he is, predictably, not looking forward to it. Daryl doesn’t do family dinners—before Carol, he’d always sort of assumed they were a myth—and as a result, he’s wracked with anxiety at the thought, because  _ how are you supposed to act at a family dinner _ ? 

 

There are only three people on the planet that he can carry an easy conversation with, and everyone else he muddles through with. He’s convinced he’s going to do something astronomically stupid, like talk about his incarcerated brother, or mention his and Carol’s sex life, as if he’s ever in his life freely offered up personal information about himself. Intrusive thoughts of all the ways the night can go wrong go through his mind like a stressful slideshow, while Henry drops a slobbery ball down by his hand.

 

Daryl picks up the ball and lobs it carelessly. Henry bounds after it, just as the front door opens. Ball instantly forgotten, Henry rushes over to greet Carol, his entire rear end shaking back and forth with the force of his wagging tail. Daryl cranes his neck and watches Henry jump up and greet her, paws to her chest. She ruffles his fur and kisses his nose, before pushing him off of her and going over to where Daryl lay. 

 

“Hello,” she says, gazing down at him with a smirk.

 

“Hey,” Daryl says, looking up. “How you feelin’?” Carol rolls her eyes fondly.

 

“You texted me that about six hundred times today. I told you I’m fine,” she says, lowering herself to the floor and laying down beside him. 

 

“It was only twice.”

 

“At  _ least  _ three times.”

 

“Still less than six hundred.”

 

“Shut up,” Carol says, and she kisses him. Not to be ignored, Henry goes over and plops his entire body down in between them, forcing them apart. He rests his head on Carol’s belly.

 

“Jerk,” Daryl mutters at the dog, who looks unremorseful. Daryl drapes a forearm over his eyes and asks Carol, “We still gotta go do the thing?” 

 

“Try to curb your excitement now, babe,” Carol says, and Daryl snorts.

 

“Sorry.”

 

“It’s okay. I’m not exactly excited for it either. All I feel like doing is going to bed.” Daryl lifts his arm high enough to cast her a look, and she huffs at him. “Am I not allowed to be tired anymore?”

 

“You’re allowed,” he says, letting his arm fall back down. “Problem is that’s all you ever are.”

 

“You’re being dramatic,” Carol counters. She reaches over Henry and thwaps him on the arm. “Come on, get up. We gotta get going. I told her we’d head over as soon as I got home from work.”

 

Grumbling Daryl pushes himself into a sitting position and then gets to his feet. He holds his hand out to her and helps her up as well. Henry gets onto all fours, wanting to be included. He lets Carol pick out his outfit, because God knows he doesn’t give a shit, and runs his fingers through his hair a few times.

 

“Don’t matter what I do,” he says, gazing at himself with a frown in the bathroom mirror. “I’m gonna look like a delinquent no matter what.” 

 

“You don’t look like a delinquent,” Carol tells him, squeezing in behind him in the tiny room and reaching around him to pick up a pair of stud earrings she left on the counter. 

 

He feels like one. In the reflection he watches her put her earrings in, pushing her hair to the side, biting her lip in concentration. She’s put together and beautiful, and maybe she’s got him wearing a pair of jeans without any holes, and a flannel he hasn’t cut the sleeves off of, but all he can see is the white trash underneath. He sees the scars from a methed-out father, and the faded ink on his leg that’s no better looking than a prison tattoo. The dichotomy between the two of them is striking, and not for the first time does he wonder why she ever looked at him twice.

 

“Hey,” Carol says gently, putting a hand on the small of his back. “Where you at?” 

 

“Right here,” he says. He gives her a weak smile in the mirror and leaves the bathroom, not giving her the chance to interrogate him further. She doesn’t need his bullshit, especially today.

 

The drive to her aunt’s house passes by with her talking about her day, and Daryl trying to listen intently while also trying to stem his increasing anxiety. He lied to Carol before—he has spoken to her aunt more than she knows. In fact, she was a crucial part to his birthday present to her, but that doesn’t mean he wants to go to her house. Most of their communication had been through text, and if it were up to him he’d keep it that way. He feels like he did the first time he went to Glenn’s, too uncomfortable to ask for something as simple as a glass of water, and hiding behind Picatso the entire time. At least, Daryl remembers with a spark of hope, Carol’s aunt has five cats for him to deflect with. 

 

They park in the driveway, and Carol opens the door without knocking, which stresses Daryl out. The inside of the house is about what Daryl expected from someone with five cats. The furniture is antique, and there are three separate glass cabinets full of assorted dishware on display, including a particularly extensive spoon collection, which makes no sense to him, because what’s the point of having dishes if you’re not going to use them?

 

“We’re here,” Carol calls out, shrugging off her jacket and hanging it on a hook by the door. Daryl does the same, because he doesn’t know what else to do with himself. He sort of hunches himself behind Carol, despite being bigger than her in height and width. Carol’s aunt emerges through a doorway wearing an apron that says, “Don’t Like the Food, Drink More Wine,” while, appropriately, carrying a large glass of red wine. 

 

“Hello hello hello!” she says excitedly, coming over and pulling Carol into a hug, wine hand held high to keep from spilling. “Happy birthday, hon.” She kisses Carol’s cheek and then turns to Daryl. “You get a hug, too,” she tells him, and he tries hard to keep his face neutral instead of terrified as she wraps an arm around his broad shoulders. She smells like alcohol, flour, and cat dander. 

 

When she pulls away Daryl casts a look at Carol, who is poorly suppressing a grin. He tells her to shut the fuck up with his eyes, and lets himself be ushered into the dining room, Carol’s aunt saying the entire time, “Have a seat, have a seat, it’s so good to see you both.”

 

“Where are the cats?” Carol asks, pulling out a creaky, wooden chair and sitting down beside Daryl. 

 

“They’re spending the evening in the laundry room. I know they make your eyes itch.”

 

Daryl feels betrayed.

 

“I made a chicken pot pie,” she continues. “I was trying to have everything on the table before you got here, but time just slipped away from me. Can I get you something to drink?”

 

She’s talking so fast that it takes Daryl a moment to realize she asked a question. He instantly forgets every consumable liquid that’s ever existed and looks to Carol for help.

 

“Water would be nice,” Carol says. “That work for you, Daryl?” He nods gratefully. 

 

“Coming right up,” says Carol’s aunt. “I’m gonna get myself a refill while I’m at it,” she adds with a wink, raising her not even half-empty glass of wine. She disappears into the kitchen, and Daryl leans in close to Carol and whispers,

 

“I’m going to die.” 

 

“No you aren’t,” she assures him. He’s doubtful.

 

The next half hour passes by like every minute lasts a year. Carol’s aunt tries so hard to engage Daryl that he feels bad that he genuinely  _ cannot  _ carry a conversation. His day was good. His job is fine. No he doesn’t have that many hobbies. No, motorcycle riding isn’t that hard. Yes, he’s been doing renovations to the house. Yes, they’re nice. What else is there to say?

 

Carol does the best she can to fill in the awkward pauses where he’s supposed to give more than one-word answers, but towards the end of the meal she stops offering up as much, falling suspiciously quiet. After she hasn’t said much for a few minutes he regards her carefully, and realizes she’s got her lips pulled into a thin, tight line, and a hand is on her stomach. The chicken pot pie is fairly innocuous, so he doubts that’s the problem.

 

“Hey,” he says then, nudging her with his elbow. “You okay?” 

 

“Um, yeah,” she says, grimacing a little. “Just...I’ll be right back.” She pushes her chair back suddenly and gets up, covering her mouth with her hand, and hurries out of the room. 

 

“Oh!” Carol’s aunt says in surprise, turning towards the door Carol fled out of. She looks at Daryl. “Is she alright?”

 

“Dunno,” Daryl says, frowning, standing up himself. “She got sick this morning, too. Said it was stress.” He sits his napkin down on his plate. “I’m gonna go check on her.” Carol’s aunt nods, and Daryl leaves the room as well.

 

The door to the bathroom is closed. He leans against the wall, arms crossed, listening to her retching. After a minute or so the toilet flushes and the faucet runs. The door opens then, and Carol startles at Daryl standing there.

 

“Jesus,” she says, putting a hand to her chest.

 

“Sorry,” he says dismissively. “You’re sick.” 

 

“I still think it’s stress.” Daryl just stares at her. “I do! I haven’t been here in a long time, and just sitting in there talking like everything’s normal when tomorrow’s—oh stop looking at me like that.”

 

“You are the stubbornest woman on the whole damn planet,” Daryl says, shaking his head. “You okay? Need to go home?”

 

“I don’t know,” Carol sighs. “I’m still a little queasy, but nothing else is coming up right this second.”

 

“‘Kay. Well, your aunt and I wanna tell you about somethin’ before we go, so let’s do that and then we’ll go home and get you to bed.”

 

“What?” Carol asks, furrowing her brow. In response, Daryl just gestures towards the living room. He helps her sit on the couch, which earns him an eyeroll, and then peaks his head into the dining room to let Carol’s aunt know where they’re at.

 

“I hope it’s okay I used your mouthwash,” Carol calls over her shoulder.

 

“That’s fine, that’s fine. What’s the matter, hon?” her aunt asks once she comes into the room. She puts a hand (the one not carrying the wine glass) on an exasperated Carol’s forehead and frowns. 

 

“Not sure,” Carol says, angling away from the touch. “I think it’s stress. Daryl thinks it’s the flu—it’s been going around work—but I don’t feel like I have the flu.” 

 

“Hm, how long have you been feeling like this?” her aunt asks, crossing her arms. Carol shrugs.

 

“Few days? Today’s the first time I’ve thrown up, though.” 

 

“And you said it’s either stress or the flu?”

 

“What else would it be?” Carol asks. Her aunt looks her up and down, biting her lip, and then nods.

 

“I’m sure you’re right,” she says, but Daryl thinks he can hear a hint of doubt in her voice. “Just...if it doesn’t go away, you might want to get it checked out.”

 

“I’m fine,” Carol says, an edge to her voice that Daryl recognizes as her about to get truly irritated, so he derails that particular conversation and instead turns to her aunt.   
  


“I was gonna take her home, but first I thought we should tell her.” 

 

“Yes, that’s a good idea,” Carol’s aunt says, taking a seat in an ugly, antique armchair. 

 

“Tell me what?” Carol asks, frowning at Daryl as he takes the spot beside her. He takes her hand and says,

 

“‘Kay, so your birthday present this year ain’t exactly your normal sort of thing. I kinda wanted to do somethin’ that could be for your birthday but also could honor your momma.”

 

“...Okay?” Carol says slowly. Daryl glances at her aunt who smiles warmly.

 

“I got a text out of the blue one day from this sweet young man,” she says, and Daryl blushes. “Sayin’ that he needed my help.”

 

“With what?” Carol asks, looking back and forth between the two of them, lost.

 

“‘Member how you were tellin’ me a while back ‘bout how you were upset that your daddy didn’t have enough money to give your momma a proper gravemarker?” Daryl asks quietly. Carol searches his eyes and then nods. “Well, I been savin’ up the money, doin’ a little overtime when you were at work and wouldn’t notice, and then got your aunt’s help talkin’ with the funeral home since I couldn’t very well walk in there and ask ‘em to fix up someone’s grave I got no legal right to. Figured that wouldn’t go over too well.”

 

“Wait wait wait,” Carol says, waving her hand. “Back up. Are you saying you bought my mom a proper headstone? Daryl, those are  _ so  _ expensive.” 

 

“Yeah, well,” Daryl says, shrugging one shoulder. “It was worth the money.” Carol seems lost for words—something Daryl can relate to—so he continues by telling her, “If you’re feeling better tomorrow I thought we could go out to the cemetery; I can show you the headstone and we can lay some flowers down.” 

 

Carol brings her hands up to her face and covers her nose and mouth as her eyes well over. She leans into Daryl and he wraps his arms around her. She mumbles several thank yous into his flannel, and he just rubs her back and kisses the top of her head. He casts Carol’s aunt a small smile, who looks close to tears herself.

 

“You got yourself one of the good ones, there,” she tells Carol then, wiping an eye with her knuckle. “Sweet as sugar, he is.”

 

Carol pulls her head back and looks up at Daryl, nodding. “I know,” she whispers. 

 

Daryl mouths the words, “love you,” not quite comfortable saying them aloud in front of her aunt. Carol mouths back, “me too,” and for a few precious moments, Daryl feels worthy of her. 

 

—-

 

_ February 5th _

_ Saturday _

 

The day is grey and chilly, a few flurries falling from heavy clouds. Daryl and Carol walk through the cemetery, hand-in-hand, stepping around the markers of the dead. Some are brightly decorated with wreaths and artifacts of personal significance. Others have been long since forgotten, moss growing over the stones, the engravings fading so that you have to look hard to know who lays beneath the soil. It all feels so hollow to Daryl. 

 

She leads him down a pathway she knows by heart. She comes here sometimes. She doesn’t always tell him, but he knows anyway. She always comes home a little more melancholy, a little sadder, and he holds her closer on those nights without her having to ask. 

 

“Oh my God, Daryl,” Carol says when they reach the plot. “That’s beautiful.”

 

What lay in the ground before had been a flat marker with nothing but a name and a set of dates, and Daryl didn’t blame Carol for resenting it. He hasn’t been to his own mother’s grave in years for the same reason. Her tiny stone had felt disrespectful, as though all she amounted to was a dry message that told nothing about the person she’d been in life. 

 

What marks Carol’s mother’s grave now, though, is an ivory-colored gravestone, with the words, “Sometimes risks are worth it,” etched deep beneath Carol’s mother’s name. 

 

“That’s from her journal,” Carol recognizes immediately. “The ones she wrote to me. That’s in the first letter. I can’t believe you remembered.”

 

“I liked it,” Daryl says, wrapping an arm around Carol’s shoulder. She leans her head against him. “Thought it was smart.” 

 

They stand in silence for a few minutes. He can hear Carol sniffling and he grips her tighter. After a while, he untangles himself from her and reaches into his inside coat pocket and pulls out a white flower; a white rose.

 

He lays it down at the base of the stone, and he puts a hand to the marker, sending a private thanks to the woman below for the daughter she gave the world. He gets back up and goes to stand beside that remarkable daughter he somehow gets to have in his life.

 

“Thank you,” Carol says quietly, looking straight ahead. “For knowing.”

 

“Knowin’ what?” he asks.

 

“Knowing that she deserved better.”

 

Daryl casts his gaze to his feet and nods.

 

“Wasn’t hard to know,” he says.

 

—-

 

_ February 7th _

_ Monday _

 

(3:09p) -hey im gonna go 2 the $ store after work u need nything?-

 

(3:15p) *Hm, maybe, but I can’t think of anything. Name things and I’ll see if I need them.*

 

(3:17p) -shampoo conditioner-

 

(3:22p) *Nope, good there.*

 

(3:25p) -toothpaste-

 

(3:29p) *Just got some.*

 

(3:31p) -deodorant-

 

(3:36p) *Still have some, but maybe pick some up anyway to save a trip later.*

 

(3:40p) -k-

 

(3:40p) -tampons-

 

(3:43p) *No, I have plenty left.*

 

(3:47p) *Actually.*

 

(3:49p) -wut u need sum?-

 

(3:51p) *No I don’t…*

 

(3:55p) -?-

 

(3:59p) *What day of the month is it?*

 

(4:02p) -7th-

 

(4:05p) *Mmmmmkay.*

 

(4:05p) *That’s...interesting.*

 

(4:09p) -?-

 

(4:13p) *Um ok so there is something I need you to pick up, but it’s 100% not a big deal at all and is just, you know, for shits and giggles.*

 

(4:15p) -...k?-

 

(4:17p) *Promise not to freak out.*

 

(4:18p) -last time u said tht u got punched in the face by ed peletier-

 

(4:18p) -wut do u need?-

 

(4:20p) *Ok, so…*

 

(4:20p) *I need you to pick up a pregnancy test.*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, okay, your resident doula is back on her bullshit. write what you know, right? this is a whole other ballgame than MIJU, though, i promise. i've got more to say, but we'll wait until we're further along (lol) in the plotline. 
> 
> carol's aunt was a throwaway character when i first wrote her, and so i never actually named her, and i was writing this scene and no names stuck out to me, so...name her whatever you want! or maybe her name is actually just "carol's aunt" and her parents were really weird, idk.
> 
> also. updating twice a week is kind of hard, but updating only once a week is killing me, so i think i'm gonna tentatively try going back to the sunday/thursday schedule and see how much it runs me down. the more i update, then the sooner i can be free from the chains of this fucking universe. -upside down smiley face emoji- 
> 
> so for this week at least, i'll see y'all on thursday. thanks for being bros. <3 <3 <3
> 
> -diz


	3. New Year's Eve Whoopsie

_ February 7th _

_ Monday _

 

(4:21p) -what-

 

(4:22p) -carol what-

 

(4:23p) *I told you it's nbd.*

 

(4:24p) -if its nbd thn y do u need 1?-

 

(4:24p) -jfc r u pregnant?-

 

(4:25p) *No I'm not.*

 

(4:25p) *But like...we should get a test just as proof.*

 

(4:26p) -tht dsnt make any sense y wud u need proof if u kno ur not pregnant?-

 

(4:27p) *Bc I haven't had my period in a while, which is NORMAL bc it's irregular sometimes esp when I'm stressed, but they'll want to know at my Planned Parenthood appointment next week so…*

 

(4:40p) *You still there?*

 

(4:42p) -ya i told dale i had 2 leave early n drove my bike up the road n am just sittin in this empty parking lot-

 

(4:43p) -uve been sick-

 

(4:43p) -gdi n uve been tired like all the time-

 

(4:43p) -fuck-

 

(4:44p) *Yes, and I also went to a really emotionally draining conference, and it was the one year anniversary of my mother's death, on top of working full time. There are other explanations, Daryl, but we should, you know. Rule this one out or whatever.*

 

(4:45p) -cool i need 2 lie down-

 

(4:46p) *I'm not pregnant.*

 

(4:47p) -but u need a pregnancy test?-

 

(4:48p) *Just so when the doctor asks next week why I haven't had my period I can tell her I've already made sure it's nothing.*

 

(4:49p) *When would it have even happened?*

 

(4:50p) -uve been off birth control-

 

(4:51p) *Yeah, but we've been super careful every time.*

 

(4:51p) *I can't think of a single time we've not used a condom, can you?*

 

(4:54p) -ricks party-

 

(4:56p) *What?*

 

(4:57p) -ricks nye party-

 

(4:58p) *We didn't have sex at the new year's eve party.*

 

(4:59p) -ya we did-

 

(4:59p) -rick told me the next day tht he walked in on us in his bathroom-

 

(5:02p) *I don't remember that at all.*

 

(5:03p) -i barely do ig we were plastered-

 

(5:04p) *Fine, we might have had sex at Rick's party. That doesn't mean we didn't use a condom.*

 

(5:05p) -we were blackout drunk u think we were using our heads?-

 

(5:06p) *I should hope so.*

 

(5:07p) -k but wut if we didnt?-

 

(5:07p) -shit carol-

 

(5:09p) *I told you not to freak out. It's gonna end up being nothing and we're just overreacting, okay? Get the test, it'll be negative, I'll get that arm implant, and life will go on.*

 

(5:11p) -last nite u cleaned all the trash cans bc u said the whole house smelled like garbage even tho it didnt-

 

(5:11p) -u fell aslp in the bath the other day n i thot u drowned-

 

(5:12p) *None of this means anything, Daryl. There are a million different reasons these things could be happening.*

 

(5:13p) -sure-

 

(5:13p) -im gna go 2 the store n buy a test-

 

(5:14p) -n then sit n panic until u get home-

 

(5:15p) *You don't need to panic but fine.*

 

(5:15p) *I'll see you in a little while.*

 

(5:16p) -k-

 

(5:17p) *It'll be fine.*

 

(5:18p) -yeah-

 

(5:19p) *It will.*

 

—-

 

The dollar store makes Daryl claustrophobic. He much prefers being outdoors when he’s actively losing his shit. He’s surprised he didn’t run his motorcycle off the road given how little he’d been paying attention.

 

_ Carol might be pregnant.  _

 

That’s the only thing on his mind. His day has taken a sharp turn into a deep ditch full of shit and he’s stuck there. He’s pissed at himself for not noticing the signs earlier. He’d assumed she’d had her period when she was in San Diego, but now that he thinks about it she never said anything, and usually she complained about cramps at the very least. She’s been dead exhausted for weeks, but she  _ had  _ been working herself harder than usual.

 

But the sickness—that he should have pieced together immediately. Stress was such a dumb excuse. Carol’s lived her whole life being stressed, why would she suddenly not be able to stomach it?

 

Daryl chides himself then, realizing he’s working off the assumption that she’s pregnant even though she hasn’t taken the test yet. Maybe she’s right. Maybe there are explanations for all her symptoms and they’re worrying over nothing.

 

(Or maybe Carol has an abundant history of denial.)

 

He finds himself in the feminine hygiene aisle. He bypasses the pads and tampons, the Monistats and Vagasils—all the things that make some men shudder and don’t even make him blink—until he comes to the “family planning” section, and his gut twists.

 

He feels as lost as he did the first time he ever tried to buy condoms, looking at all the different brands and types. Does she need one that has a digital screen, or will a simple one-line/two-line suffice? Some aren’t even pregnancy tests. He accidentally picks up one that tracks ovulation, and he puts it back quickly, as if even thinking about trying to conceive will jinx him. He finally grabs a cheap two-pack that promises “quick and accurate results,” and heads towards the checkout before remembering he came to the store for more than just this.

 

In a mad sort of dissociated dash, Daryl gathers the few things he needs—shaving cream, body wash, an industrial sized bottle of acetaminophen—and goes to the register and dumps it onto the counter, having forgotten to grab a basket.

 

The cashier is an elderly woman with hoop earrings and dark eye shadow. She has a glazed expression and robotic movements, and she clearly couldn’t care less about his purchases as she scans his items with obvious disinterest. Even still, Daryl feels like he’s under a spotlight; like she’s about to press the intercom button and announce to the entire store, “Attention, dumbass teenager is buying a pregnancy test at the goddamn dollar store here in lane one!” 

 

He is feeling remarkably poor and remarkably young.

 

He swipes his card and fumbles with his pin number. He grabs his bag and his receipt with a mumbled thanks and not a second of eye contact. 

 

He takes the long way home, hating the cold but appreciating the distraction the whipping wind grants him. He pulls up into their pathetic little white trash plot of land and doesn’t even bother going inside before sitting down on the porch and lighting a cigarette.

 

_ You can’t smoke around pregnant women _ , he thinks out of nowhere and grimaces. He watches the paper on the tip of his cigarette burn into ash before dropping the whole thing on the ground and putting it out angrily with the heel of his boot.

 

He tries to occupy himself. He lets Henry out and ties him up to his chain, not in the mood for playing. He puts away his purchases, and changes out of his work clothes. He checks the time. Still a whole half hour before Carol is due back home. He’s not convinced he won’t have an aneurysm before then.

 

He plops himself down onto the couch and looks at the pregnancy test box he sat on the coffee table. He chews on a cuticle, watching it warily, as though it’s going to come alive and tell him, “congratulations, you’ve royally screwed up!” He snatches the box off the table and opens it. He pulls out the instructions and reads over them roughly two hundred times, as if that’s going to help anything.  

 

Finally, he hears the rattling of Henry’s chain outside and the slam of Carol’s car door. Daryl rolls off the couch and takes one of the tests in his hand. He goes over to greet her.

 

The second she walks in Daryl wordlessly hands the test out to her. She pauses, looks at it, and, without taking it from him, starts removing her jacket. “Hello to you, too,” she says mildly.

 

“Yeah, hi, take this,” Daryl says, not lowering his arm. Carol hangs up her jacket and sighs.

 

“I don’t have to pee.”

 

“I’ll get you some water.”

 

“I heard it’s better to take them in the morning.” 

 

“There are two, you can take the other one tomorrow.” 

 

Carol gives him a look, and Daryl gives him one right back; two headstrong people waiting for the other to cave.

 

“Fine,” Carol relents, huffing. She snatches the test out of Daryl’s hand and heads towards the bathroom, and he follows close behind.

 

“Make sure you pee on the absorbent side,” Daryl says, parroting information he’s gathered from the instruction sheet. “Hold it under the stream for about seven to ten seconds.”

 

“Oh my God, stop talking,” Carol says. She hesitates, looking at Daryl who’s at her heel. “Do I get to do this in private or are you gonna watch?” she asks haughtily. 

 

“Go pee, but I’m waiting right here,” Daryl says stubbornly, planting his feet outside the bathroom.

 

“Whatever. How long is this supposed to take?”

 

“Said three minutes.”

 

“‘Kay.” Without another word, Carol goes in and shuts the door behind her. Daryl is too anxious to feel awkward listening to her rustle around the bathroom and do her business. He’s too focused on trying to keep his heart from busting clear through his throat.

 

He’s tapping his foot and drumming his fingers against his thigh, feeling seconds from combusting, by the time she comes back out. She hands the test to him, not looking at it, and says, “So now we wait a couple minutes to find out you spent your money for no reason.” 

 

But Daryl isn’t listening. He immediately flips the test to the results side and his heart plummets from his throat  _ straight  _ down to his ass in record time. 

 

There are two lines clear as day glaring up at him—two  _ dark  _ lines, so there’s no mistaking it for a trick of the eye.

 

“It’s already positive,” he manages to mumble, not able to tear his eyes away.

 

“ _ What? _ ” Carol asks sharply, snatching the test back and looking for herself.

 

“Well obviously there’s something wrong with it,” she says with certainty. “It’s supposed to take three minutes; that was less than a minute.”

 

“The thing, the uh, I dunno, whatever it’s called, the instruction sheet,” Daryl starts, stumbling over his words as his brain traffic jams. “It said the darker the line the more, like, hormones you have or something.” 

 

“No, it became positive too fast, I think it’s broken,” Carol insists. “We’ll just have to wait until morning and see what the other one says.” She tosses the test into the bathroom trash and walks away like nothing happened, and Daryl is flabbergasted.

 

_ So obstinate denial is how they are going to play this, then? Good to know. _

 

“I’m gonna heat leftovers up for dinner, that okay with you?” Carol calls from the kitchen. Daryl doesn’t say anything. Instead, he backs up into the wall behind him and slides down to the floor, wrapping his arms around his knees and leaning his head back. He stares blankly at the top of the bathroom door frame across from him. There’s an old cobweb hanging on it that needs to be dusted, and neither of them bothered to turn off the light. 

 

_ Motorcycle. _

 

He wants to text Glenn and Rick for help so badly, but he knows he can’t; knows he can’t share this without Carol’s permission, as it’s just as much her business as it is his. Instead, he tries to think of what they would say.

 

_ Oh shit. _ That would be Glenn. Then Rick would say something consoling and tack on “brother” at the end, which Daryl always appreciates. 

 

Then what?

 

Fuck, that’s why he needs to text them, because he  _ doesn’t know _ .

 

He hears the fridge door open. He listens to Carol move around the kitchen—the sound of silverware clinking against glass bowls, the hum of the microwave—as she heats up dinner without waiting around for Daryl’s response.

 

He can handle almost every version of Carol—sad, mad, stressed, sleep deprived—but he’s yet to master this; he’s never learned how to deal with her frankly frightening skill of denial. Does she actually believe the bullshit she offers up when she’s like this? Daryl’s reminded of a year ago, when he spent an entire day trying to navigate Carol’s refusal to acknowledge her own grief, and that had ended with an impulsive tattoo and no resolution until well over a month later, so he doesn’t have a great track record. 

 

But it’s not like this is something she can just stuff down and ignore for months. This is something that’s going to make itself known very quickly, whether she wants it to or not, and there are decisions that have to made sooner rather than later.

 

Jesus. The decisions. The biggest decisions Daryl can fathom facing right now.

 

How in the fuck, he wonders, can it take just one too many shots of tequila to accidentally make a whole-ass human being? 

 

That definitely seems like a design flaw.

 

“Are you eating?” Carol asks, peeking her head around the corner and looking at him expectantly.

 

“No,” Daryl responds flatly, not looking back. He hears Carol huff.

 

“Stop,” she says. “You’re worrying over nothing.” 

 

He does meet her eye now, squinting. “ _ Nothing _ ?” he asks. “Carol, you’re…” he trails off.

 

“I’m what?” she asks, crossing her arms.

 

“You know what,” Daryl mumbles, turning back to the cobweb on the doorframe. 

 

“I took one test, Daryl.”

 

“And it was positive.”

 

“So maybe it was a false positive. Or maybe I’m right and it was a fucked up test. I mean, you got it from the dollar store, how good can it be?” 

 

Daryl doesn’t dignify that with a response. He plucks dog hair off his sleeve absently and frowns at his lap. 

 

“Daryl,” she says after a few beats.

 

“Hm?” 

 

“Say something.” 

 

“What the hell do you want me to say, Carol?” he asks, unintentionally harsh. He hazards a glance her way and sees she’s surprised. It’s rare for him to get short with her. His first impulse is to apologize, but instead he uses it to his advantage, because maybe it’ll get her to  _ listen _ . “Look, forget the test for a second. You got  _ all  _ the symptoms. We  _ know  _ we fucked without birth control. Maybe the piss stick is fucked up, but shit, Carol, I don’t think a better one is gonna tell us anything different.” 

 

Carol regards him, biting her lower lip. Then she gives a defeated shrug.

 

“So what then? I’m just supposed to accept that I’m pregnant? I can’t be, Daryl. I  _ cannot  _ be pregnant.” Her voice, though brash, has an underlying vulnerability that only Daryl would be able to hear. He instantly softens.

 

“I know you don’t wanna be, sweetheart,” he says. “But...I dunno, pretending that you’re not ain’t gonna get us nowhere.” 

 

Carol purses her lips and looks up towards the ceiling, blinking back tears. She shakes her head. “This is bullshit,” she says, but it sounds like she’s saying it more to herself than to Daryl. “Every time, every  _ goddamn  _ time, something finally falls into place it’s gotta be blown up in my face.” She lowers her head back down to look at Daryl. “I was so sure,” she says. “Now what the fuck am I supposed to do?”

 

“Whaddya mean?” Daryl asks, frowning.

 

“I didn’t want to know my status—I still don’t—and I was finally sure of that decision. But I can’t…” She gestures at her midsection with disdain. “Not without knowing if the...if it’s sick, too.” 

 

Of course. Daryl feels foolish. While he was sitting around doing mental math about how much diapers would cost per month, Carol has spent the whole evening wondering if she’s giving their offspring an incurable disease. Daryl sighs and gets to his feet. He walks over and pulls Carol into his arms. She goes willingly, letting a few tears fall before pressing her forehead against his collarbone, her arms limp at her side like a ragdoll, like it’s all too much and she’s reached her limit and just needs to be held.

  
“We don’t have to go through with it,” Daryl mumbles into her hair after a while. “If you don’t wanna, or if you can’t, it’s okay.” 

 

“I know,” she whispers. Daryl hesitates.

 

“And like...if you can’t go through with not going through with it...that’s okay too. I ain’t goin’ nowhere either way. You know that right? Told you before the first time we was even together that if we ever fucked up like this I’d be there for you, and I meant it.” 

 

“I know that, too,” she says, even quieter this time. She lets out a long breath and then stands up straight. Her face is wet with tears, and she pushes damp strands of hair back behind her ears. “I can’t think about this right now,” she tells him. “I need time.” 

 

“‘Kay. You don’t gotta make a decision this second.”

 

“No but, I can’t do this at all. I can’t talk about it, or think about it, I just...give me a little bit, okay? I’ll take that second test in the morning and if it says what we already know what it’s gonna say, I need you to not bring it up for a while.”

 

Daryl squints at her and asks, “How long's a while?” 

 

“I don’t know. Not forever.” 

 

“Aight, but...we do have a bit of a deadline here if we’re gonna...if we wanna be able to consider all the options.”

 

“I’m aware,” Carol says, wiping her eyes with her finger. “I’m also aware that it’s not fair to ask you to ignore it. You and me, we handle things different. You gotta let yourself feel it and think about it, and that’s fine, but I can’t, at least not right away, so you can tell them.”

 

“Tell who?” Daryl asks, furrowing his brow.

 

“Rick and Glenn,” she says. “You can tell them everything. About this, about the Huntington’s, whatever. Just ask them to keep it to themselves.”

 

“You know Glenn can’t keep his mouth shut.”

 

“He can if he tries, and if there’s anyone he’ll try for it’s you. I trust him.”

 

“...Aight.”

 

She takes his hand and squeezes it. “Just a few days,” she assures him. “I have that appointment next week anyway, so I can only avoid it for so long.”

 

“Don’t know how good it is for you to be avoiding it at all,” Daryl mutters, looking down at his shoes.

 

“I gotta, Daryl,” she says, almost pleading. “This is too much.” 

 

Daryl doesn’t like it. Suddenly he’s standing in the bathroom of his father’s house washing off the excess ink on her tattoo, not knowing how to bring her back from her own self-sabotage. He didn’t know how to do it then, and he isn’t much better off now, so instead he just nods.

 

“Okay,” he says reluctantly. “I’ll text Glenn and Rick tomorrow.” 

 

“You can text them now, I don’t care.”

 

“I know, but I wanna be with you tonight,” he says.  _ Before you go AWOL on me, _ he doesn’t say. 

 

“Okay,” she says after a beat. She nods towards the kitchen. “C’mon, eat dinner with me.”

 

He’s never been less hungry in his life, but he follows her anyway, feeling like nothing has been resolved.

 

—-

 

_ February 8th _

_ Tuesday _

 

(12:34p) -k so like-

 

(12:34p) -motorcycle-

 

(12:34p) -but its a big motorcycle n i need u 2 keep it 2 urselves ok? i mean it its not like b4 w/ me liking carol i rly need 2 b able 2 trust u-

 

(12:37p) >Well you know I'll keep my mouth shut.<

 

(12:38p) -ya ur not the problem-

 

(12:41p) ~come on guys, i'm not that bad.~

 

(12:43p) >How's Maggie's therapy going?<

 

(12:46p) ~haha nice try, i know what you're doing and i'm not gonna invade her privacy. the stuff about her having issues with her stepmom is her own business.~

 

(12:48p) -jfc-

 

(12:49p) >Do you listen to the words that you say or do you just say them?<

 

(12:52p) ~shit i did it again didn't i?~

 

(12:52p) ~i can keep whatever this secret is, though! i think the solution is that i just need someone to talk to about it, so if it's fair game in the groupchat we'll be fine.~

 

(12:54p) -u have 2 swear-

 

(12:55p) ~i swear.~

 

(12:56p) -like on ur fukin life-

 

(12:57p) ~i swear on my fucking life.~

 

(12:58p) -n if u break the promise i have permission 2 feed ur balls 2 my dog-

 

(12:59p) ~um.~

 

(1:00p) -say it-

 

(1:01p) ~...if i break the promise you can feed my balls to your dog.~

 

(1:02p) >Please keep the secret, I don't want to witness that.<

 

(1:03p) ~well i don't want to experience it, so…~

 

(1:04p) -k-

 

(1:09p) >So are you gonna tell us what's up or what?<

 

(1:10p) -yeah just give me a sec 2 idk find my nerve-

 

(1:10p) -i fuked up n ur gna b mad @ me 4 bein a huge dumbass-

 

(1:12p) ~jesus christ, daryl, how bad can it be?~

 

(1:13p) >Yeah man, just spit it out.<

 

(1:15p) -carols pregnant-

 

(1:17p) ~........oh shit.~

 

(1:17p) >Fuck. That's a lot, brother.<

 

(1:18p) -ya-

 

(1:19p) ~how though??? you guys are usually so responsible. and we're the ones who gave you the sex talk to begin with and we definitely covered safe sex.~

 

(1:20p) -ik-

 

(1:21p) >What happened?<

 

(1:23p) -lmao-

 

(1:23p) -ur party rick-

 

(1:24p) >What party?<

 

(1:24p) >Oh.<

 

(1:24p) >OH.<

 

(1:24p) >Fuck.<

 

(1:25p) ~YOU GOT CAROL PREGNANT IN RICK'S PARENT'S BATHROOM???~

 

(1:26p) -yeah stfu i alrdy h8 myself abt it-

 

(1:26p) -1 more reason 2 h8 parties ig-

 

(1:27p) ~that’s insane, this is insane. are you sure she's actually, you know, knocked up?~

 

(1:28p) >Your eloquence when addressing our friend in need knows no bounds, you absolute shithead.<

 

(1:29p) -jfc-

 

(1:30p) -yeah we're sure-

 

(1:30p) -she took a test last nite n another this morn n they were positive in like 2 seconds-

 

(1:32p) ~yikes, man, what are gonna do?~

 

(1:33p) -no clue-

 

(1:34p) >I'm not sure how to ask this, but ig, are /all/ the options on the table, or…?<

 

(1:36p) -u mean wud she get an abortion?-

 

(1:37p) >Yeah.<

 

(1:40p) -i think so-

 

(1:42p) ~another insensitive question but do you think that's what you guys will do?~

 

(1:46p) -idk its rly complicated-

 

(1:47p) >Yeah I imagine there are about a million pros and cons you gotta weigh.<

 

(1:49p) -not just tht tho-

 

(1:52p) ~?~

 

(1:53p) -ugh k this part is a secret 2 carol said i can tell u but she rly likes her privacy ok?-

 

(1:55p) >Um, ok, what is it?<

 

(1:55p) ~i swear on my balls’ life that the secret is safe with me.~

 

(1:57p) -k carol mite b rly sick but we dnt kno 4 sure n if she is thn any kid she has mite b sick 2-

 

(1:59p) ~what do you mean she might be really sick? how bad?~

 

(2:02p) -bad-

 

(2:02p) -like 100% fatal bad-

 

(2:02p) -she mite have huntingtons disease which is how her mom died-

 

(2:05p) ~isn’t that the disease that one chick on the show house had?~

 

(2:07p) -idk?-

 

(2:08p) >Never seen it.<

 

(2:09p) ~it’s a genetic disease that's like a coin toss whether you'll inherit it or not?~

 

(2:12p) -yeah basically-

 

(2:16p) >What's it do?<

 

(2:18p) -makes ur whole body stop working p much-

 

(2:18p) -i met her mom b4 she died n she cudnt move n she had dementia n all this other shit-

 

(2:21p) ~damn, so you've know about this for a while.~

 

(2:24p) -mhm-

 

(2:25p) >Is there no way for Carol to know if she has it or not?<

 

(2:27p) -there is but she dsnt wnt 2 kno-

 

(2:30p) >Why wouldn't she want to know?<

 

(2:35p) -bc theres nthn 2 do 2 stop it or cure it so she feels like it wud just make her feel like theres no point in doin anything w/ her life if she knew she was just gonna end up bein sick-

 

(2:37p) >I guess I can understand that.<

 

(2:38p) ~but what does that mean for the baby then?~

 

(2:42p) -akskdlsla dnt say the b word im not there yet-

 

(2:44p) ~my bad. what does it mean for the New Year's Eve Whoopsie?~

 

(2:45p) -i h8 u but w/e i'll take it-

 

(2:45p) -idrk wut it means carols said b4 tht she wudnt wnt 2 have kids if they were sick bc she wnts it 2 end w/ her bc u can only pass the disease if u have it urself-

 

(2:46p) -but she dsnt wnt 2 b tested so idk wut tht means 4 this-

 

(2:46p) -so fuk everything basically-

 

(2:50p) ~k but real talk, if you took the sick thing out of the equation, what would you want her to do?~

 

(2:52p) -idk id do w/e she decided-

 

(2:53p) >Yeah, but what do /you/ want? We know you'd never be a deadbeat dad or something, but if it was only your decision what would you do?<

 

(2:56p) -god idfk-

 

(2:56p) -i havent even thot tht far-

 

(2:57p) -we have like $2 to our name n we'd b fukin teen parents-

 

(2:57p) -but also idk-

 

(2:59p) ~you don't know what?~

 

(3:02p) -im not xactly against the idea of havin a kid w/ her-

 

(3:02p) -like rn is bad timing n prob a dumbass idea but its not like i have any huge future plans a...nye whoopsie wud ruin-

 

(3:03p) -idk mite b cool-

 

(3:07p) >What's she said about it?<

 

(3:09p) -lmfao not a damn thing-

 

(3:09p) -she literally told me 2 act like its not happening 4 a while until she can handle it-

 

(3:11p) ~wait, so she's just pretending to not be pregnant?~

 

(3:12p) -mmmhm she threw up in the middle of the nite last nite n got pissy w/ me 4 checkin on her bc she knew it was from bein pregnant-

 

(3:12p) -she doesnt wnt me sayin anything abt it 2 her at all thts y she said i cud tell u guys instead-

 

(3:15p) >That sounds... incredibly unhealthy.<

 

(3:20p) -lol rite-

 

(3:20p) -say wut u wnt abt ur girls but carol is so stubborn tht i had 2 almost yell @ her 2 get her 2 stop ignoring the fact tht she had a positive p test yesterday-

 

(3:21p) -she told me it was wrong n went n made dinner like ????-

 

(3:23p) ~yeah okay, she wins.~

 

(3:26p) >She realizes that, uh, New Year's Eve Whoopsies don't just go away, right?<

 

(3:29p) -¯\\_(ツ)_/¯-

 

(3:29p) -whn she took the 2nd test this morn n it was positive she just said ok n threw it away n then kissed me n told me 2 have a gud day at work so who knows?-

 

(3:31p) ~she is not great at handling things that overwhelm her is she? remember that first day of school after her mom died?~

 

(3:36p) -its annoying she was actually gettin better @ it she was workin on it n everything but this just fuked it all up n now we're back where we started-

 

(3:40p) >It's not really fair to you.<

 

(3:42p) -yeah idk she has a drs appt next week so she'll have 2 tlk abt it thn-

 

(3:42p) -4 now im just gna let her b n lose my shit by myself-

 

(3:45p) >Nah, not by yourself.<

 

(3:46p) ~your lost shit is more than welcome here.~

 

(3:49p) -lmao thnx-

 

(3:53p) ~we’re here for you, bud.~

 

(3:55p) >We've got your bacterial meningitis.<

 

(3:56p) ~.........~

 

(3:56p) ~that’s my line.~

 

—-

 

_ February 9th _

_ Wednesday _

 

(9:09p) -plz help-

 

(9:11p) ~with what?~

 

(9:12p) -im spiraling-

 

(9:14p) >I was waiting for that. You've been remarkably calm for the past day.<

 

(9:15p) -yeah idk the shock wore off or smthn bc im freaking tf out-

 

(9:15p) -my gf is pregnant u guys-

 

(9:15p) -how the shit is tht possible?-

 

(9:16p) ~i think we're past the “when a mommy and daddy love each other very very much” speech.~

 

(9:17p) -we fuked w/out protection 1 time-

 

(9:17p) -/1/-

 

(9:17p) -ik so many guys my bro n dad r friends w/ tht r so dumb im surprised can even find their own dicks but even they havent screwed up like this-

 

(9:18p) -well. some of them havent-

 

(9:18p) -but do u kno how much shit my daddy wud give me 4 this? he'd make fun of me until he ran outta steam n thn he'd beat me into next week-

(9:21p) ~ :/ ~

 

(9:21p) ~you’re not telling him are you?~

 

(9:22p) -pfft hell no i havent seen him since i moved n i dnt plan 2 but still-

 

(9:22p) -my bro is gonna kick my ass 2 tho if he ever finds out-

 

(9:23p) -this is p much wut every1 xpected from me u kno? bein sum teenage hick who knocked up his girl-

 

(9:23p) -n i fukin h8 myself 4 doin this 2 carol-

 

(9:24p) >What do you mean? It's not like she wasn't right there with you in that bathroom. And I can tell you from very unfortunate first-hand experience that you both seemed to be willing and enthusiastic participants.<

 

(9:26p) -ig but its her thts gotta go thru all the worst of it-

 

(9:26p) -shes getting sicker n its killin me knowin shes hacking her guts up 4 smthn tht we mite not even end up having-

 

(9:27p) ~is she still making you guys play the denial game?~

 

(9:28p) -lmao yes-

 

(9:28p) -hardcore-

 

(9:28p) -she came home nauseous n its so obvious but she will not let me try n help her. like i offered 2 go get her sum ginger ale 2 help settle her stomach n she got annoyed n said her stomach was fine-

 

(9:30p) >Did she throw up?-

 

(9:31p) -like ten min l8r-

 

(9:32p) ~of course.~

 

(9:33p) -im goin crazy its so tense @ home btwn us on top of all the other freaking out- 

 

(9:33p) -like wut if this ends us?-

 

(9:34p) ~you mean what if you break up over it?~

 

(9:35p) -more like wut if she breaks up w/ me bc im not planning on it but yeah-

 

(9:37p) >I don't know, brother, maybe this will test how strong your relationship is.<

 

(9:38p) -wish there was a better way 2 test it-

 

(9:40p) >Hey, speaking of tests, I had something I wanted to run past you.<

 

(9:41p) -?-

 

(9:42p) >You said Carol doesn't want to see if she has Huntington's or not, right?<

 

(9:43p) -mhm-

 

(9:44p) >What if you didn't test her, but tested the New Year's Eve Whoopsie instead?<

 

(9:47p) -can u do tht?-

 

(9:48p) >Yeah I was doing some research about the disease cuz I wanted to understand it better and ig you can test a fetus for genetic disorders???<

 

(9:49p) ~science is fucking wild.~

 

(9:50p) >I have no idea if they'd test a fetus if the mother doesn't know if she has it or not but it might be worth a shot.<

 

(9:50p) >If you decide you'd want to consider keeping it, I mean.<

 

(9:52p) -mb she'd b into tht-

 

(9:52p) -i cant ask rn tho not while shes like this-

 

(9:53p) ~you kind of need to get her to snap out of it.~

 

(9:54p) -yeah ok lmk if u figure out how-

 

(9:55p) >She's stressing you both out and that's the last thing you need more of rn.<

 

(9:56p) -yeah ik-

 

(9:56p) -its just hard esp bc i feel guilty-

 

(9:58p) ~rick’s right, though, it's not your fault. you both are equally involved.~

 

(9:59p) -idk i'll talk 2 her-

 

(10:00p) >When?<

 

(10:01p) -soon?-

 

(10:02p) ~i’m guessing that means never.~

 

—-

 

_ February 10th _

_ Thursday _

 

Daryl is on his back on the living room floor balancing his laptop against his bent knees, his mousepad and mouse beside him on the carpet. He’s thankful tonight is game night, because at least one thing about his week is normal.

 

“Carol gonna be home soon?” Rick’s voice asks, coming through Daryl’s earbuds.

 

“Nah, she works second shift tonight. She said it’s ‘cause they haven’t officially changed her hours, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s just avoiding me,” Daryl says. “Where are you going, stupid? Follow us across the bridge.”

 

“Sorry,” says Glenn. “Things are still tense at home, then?”

 

“Yeah, we’re barely talking, it’s fuckin’ terrible—Rick watch your left—I ain’t got no clue how to deal with it, we’ve never fought before ‘sides that one time with Ed.”

 

“It’s not exactly fighting, is it?” asks RIck. “More like neither of you know how to act around each other because you haven’t talked about the giant elephant in the—fuck, fuck, fuck, Daryl cast the spell, cast it quick, no not that one, goddamnit.” 

 

“Aim for the fucking bad guy, not the empty air, idiot, you just got Rick stabbed,” Glenn says.

 

“My bad. I got a healing potion, hold on.” 

 

“Is she acting mad, though?” asks Rick. “Thanks,” he adds as Daryl heals him.

 

“I dunno what she’s acting like. Nothin’ I think. She’s acting blank. She’s givin’ me nothin’ to work with so I just stay out of her way.” 

 

“Doesn’t sound healthy,” Glenn says.

 

“It ain’t, but what am I supposed to do. Glenn, look out I think that entryway is rigged—never mind.”

 

“Goddamnit, that took half my health points.” 

 

“Pay attention next time. Maybe you should try just talking to her, Daryl,” says Rick. “I know it’ll probably piss her off at first, but if things are already uncomfortable then at least you can get shit out in the open. You shouldn’t have to be walking on eggshells in your own house.”

 

“Yeah, I know, I hate it. Did enough of that growin’ up, don’t need more of that bullshit. I dunno what I’d even say to get her to talk to me, though. Pretty damn ironic that I’m not the one who’s refusing to say stuff.” 

 

“I think you should talk about it before your appointment, or else you guys are just gonna walk in there with no plan or anything. Rick, trade me weapons, I need to upgrade my one-handed skill.”

 

“‘Kay. I agree with Glenn, so you know it’s serious.”

 

“Ugh,” Daryl sighs. “I dunno. I ain’t good at words, though.”

 

“You’re not good at casting spells either, Jesus Christ, there are like seven of them, hit at least one,” Glenn says.

 

“I think you gotta try,” says Rick. “Also let me cast from now on or else we’re all gonna die.”

 

“It’s harder than it looks, damn. And yeah, okay,” Daryl agrees. “I’ll try.” 

 

—-

 

_ February 11th _

_ Friday _

 

Henry jumps off the end of the couch where he’d been sleeping on Daryl’s feet and goes to the door, which means that Carol has just pulled into the driveway. It’s well past dark, and nearly 10:30 at night, and while he hates when she works so late, he doesn’t think her getting off any earlier would make him miss her any less, because this entire week, even when they’re in the same room, they’re a thousand miles apart. 

 

He waits for her to open the door, but it doesn’t happen. He fiddles with the TV remote, listening to Henry whine, until deciding to get up and see what she’s doing. 

 

“Kennel,” he tells the dog, who gives him a look of utter betrayal before solemnly heading to his crate. Daryl locks him in and goes to open the front door. On the top step of their stoop sits Carol, puffing on a cigarette and staring out into space, and Daryl is hit with a flash of irritation he can’t control.

 

“What are you doing?” he asks, pushing open the screen door and stepping outside. He looms over her, but she doesn’t bother looking up.

 

“What’s it look like I’m doing?” she asks. It’s a haughty question, but it comes out flat.

 

“Looks like you’re smoking,” Daryl says, crossing his arms. “You know you can’t do that, Carol.”

 

The hand holding her cigarette hovers right before her lips. With a swallow, she brings the filter to her mouth and wordlessly takes another drag. That tears it for Daryl.

 

“That it then?” he asks. “We got our answer?”

 

“What are you talking about?” Carol mumbles, ashing her cigarette and frowning out across the yard.

 

“Well clearly you already know what you wanna do about this if you’re gonna sit out here and pull on a cigarette. Want me to go pour a shot for you while we’re at it?” 

 

That gets her attention. She glances up at him with a scowl. “It’s just one cigarette, Daryl,” she says. 

 

“Yeah, and how many you been smokin’ when I’m not around?”

 

“Does it matter?” 

 

Daryl lets out a humorless huff of a laugh and chews on the inside of his cheek, shaking his head.

 

“Nah,” he says. “‘Course not, it don’t matter at all. Fuck it, right?” He turns on his heel and goes back inside, letting the screen door slam behind him. He doesn’t bother with the other one. He plops himself down on the edge of the couch and rests his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. After a minute or so he hears her come inside, too. He doesn’t look up when he feels the cushion beside him sink down under her weight, but rather just entangles his fingers in his hair and bites his lip.

 

“Hey,” she says gently. He raises his head just enough to look at her. Her whole face is void of  _ anything _ . She takes a hand and cups his cheek. He lets her kiss him, and she tastes of smoke. She starts to pull away but he grabs hold of the front of her shirt and tugs her back and kisses her again. Hard. 

 

She responds enthusiastically, opening her mouth for him and running her tongue over his. He yanks on her by the elbow until she’s sitting on his lap and she wraps her arms around his neck. He bites her lower lip and shoves his hands up under her shirt, digging the pads of his fingers into the curve of her back. Taking hold of the hem of her shirt then, he tugs it up and over her head so carelessly he hears a seam rip. He throws it onto the floor and starts nipping at her collarbone.

 

Carol sucks on the skin behind his ear while her fingers make quick work of the buttons on his flannel. She drags her nails down his chest and abdomen until she reaches his fly. She undoes his belt and unzips him. She stands up, kicking off her shoes, and starts to pull down her leggings, but Daryl pushes her hands away and shoves them down himself, her leggings and her panties pooling at her feet. She steps out of them and kicks them aside. He sucks bruises into the skin of her thighs, holding her in place with his hands gripping her ass. 

 

She shoves him back roughly into the back of the couch and grabs hold of his waistband, making him lift up so she can pull down his pants. She stops at the knees and then climbs back on top of him, straddling his erection. She crashes her lips against his at the same time she lowers herself down and starts to ride him. He holds her hips tight enough to leave marks, and she bites his shoulder deep enough for her teeth to leave indents. 

 

It feels good but it’s not what he wants. It’s not hard enough; not fast enough. He gathers her up and flips her onto her back lengthwise onto the couch. He kicks himself free of his jeans and then finds her again, thrusting into her only a few paces away from violently, using the arm of the couch for leverage. She doesn’t seem bothered. On the contrary, she’s making breathy little noises against the crook of his neck. 

 

“More,” she whispers into his ear. 

 

There’s not enough space on their small couch. He pulls out of her, ignoring her whine of protest, and shoves the coffee table back. She gets the idea and lowers herself onto the floor and he’s back on her in a second. She wraps her legs around his waist, and he all but plows into her, ignoring the burn of the carpet against his knees and the palms of his hands.

 

“Fuck, Daryl,” she says, stiffening her muscles, her nails leaving grooves on the marred flesh of his back as she cums. 

 

He doesn’t offer her any reprieve, but instead continues to thrust until he feels his own orgasm build. With a single-syllabled grunt he lets go inside of her, breathing hard, hot breath on the damp skin in the groove where her neck meets her collarbone. He rolls off her onto his back and stares at the ceiling. 

 

He’s got pricks and pains all over his body. His shoulder is marked by her teeth, his back and chest by her nails, and his palms and knees are rubbed raw. She’s not much better off, his fingerprints having left behind red marks, and her thighs painted with love bites. He thinks he may have just had angry sex. 

 

(He’s always reprimanded Carol for trying to use sex as a coping mechanism, but truth be told, he kind of gets it now.)

 

They breathe in a tense and quiet tandem for several minutes, until Daryl finally finds the nerve to look over at her. She meets his gaze, and after they stare at one another for a good long moment, they both snort. 

 

“Jesus Christ this is stupid,” Carol says, draping her forearm over her eyes and shaking her head.

 

“Yeah,” Daryl agrees, sighing. She moves her arm away and looks at him with a sad expression.

 

“I’m sorry,” she says. 

 

“I know,” Daryl says. “I can’t keep doin’ this, though, Carol. Tiptoeing around you, not knowin’ how you’re feelin’ and bein’ too afraid to ask? I can’t. It brings up too much bullshit for me.” He reaches over and takes her hand. “Plus I love you and watchin’ you like this hurts like hell.”

 

Carol nods her head slowly. 

 

“I know,” she mutters. She brings her free hand up to her face and wipes at the corners of her eyes like she might be close to crying. 

 

“C’mere,” Daryl says. He gets to her feet and then pulls her up. He helps her unsnap her bra and they toss it onto the floor with the rest of their clothes. He leads her to their bed and turns down the sheets. They get in together and curl up against one another, face-to-face. It’s the first time Daryl feels like Carol’s actually been  _ here _ in days. 

 

“I’m scared,” Carol says after neither of them says anything for a while.

 

“Me too,” Daryl says honestly. “Real fuckin’ scared.”

 

“I know you want me to tell you what I want, but I don’t know. I really don't. It’s like I keep feeling all these things in my body that I know are because of  _ it _ , and I’ve just kept trying to ignore them because thinking about it and all the things we have to consider makes me so afraid. But my stomach hurts, even right now, and I’m exhausted, and I keep fucking peeing—my body won’t let me forget what’s happening to it.”

 

“If you knew, like 100% knew, that it wasn’t sick, would you wanna keep it?” Daryl asks, unsure if that’s too far over the line to cross. Carol furrows her brow and plays with a lock of Daryl’s hair.

 

“Maybe,” she says. “Probably. But we don’t know 100%, and I don’t want to get tested.”

 

“What if we didn’t test you? What if we tested it?” 

 

“What do you mean?” Carol asks, frowning up at him.

 

“What if we could find a doctor who’d be willin’ to test it without testin’ you first?” 

 

“Can we even find someone like that?”

 

“Dunno,” Daryl says honestly. “But we could try. If you think it’s worth the effort, then I think we could try.”

 

“Do  _ you _ think it’s worth the effort?”

 

Daryl chews on his lip and then shrugs. “Yeah,” he says simply. “I do.”

 

“What if it comes back that it is sick, though? Then we’d lose it  _ and _ know that I’m sick too.” 

 

“Yeah, we would. You’d hafta be willin’ to take that risk. But it sounds to me like if we don’t take it then we’re gonna lose it anyways.” 

 

“Fuck,” Carol whispers, burrowing herself against Daryl’s chest. 

 

“Yeah,” he agrees, rubbing her back. She lays like that for some time, until eventually resurfacing.

 

“I wanna try,” she says. “And I promise I won’t pull anymore bullshit, but if you’re making me feel this, then you gotta understand that I’m gonna be  _ feeling _ this, and we might not get good news. I might not be okay.” 

 

“Don’t matter how you feel, I can handle it. I just want you back,” he says, stroking her cheek. She gives him a small smile.

 

“Okay. Then I’ll talk to my boss on Monday. She knows a lot of specialists who know about Huntington’s. Maybe she can find us an OB who’ll hear us out.” 

 

Daryl figures now isn’t the time to let her know that he doesn’t know what an OB is, so instead he uses context clues and nods.

 

“I’m down if you’re down,” he tells her. He leans over and kisses her forehead. “Love the shit outta you, you know that, right?” he asks quietly.

 

“I do,” she says. “And I love you right back.”

 

“We’ll figure this out, baby. We been through shit our whole lives, we know we can get through it. And who knows, maybe this is finally our time to have somethin’ good.”

 

Carol huffs a small laugh and closes her eyes.

 

“I hope so,” she says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i probably had something to say, but i fuck if i know what it was. so ig see you sunday, fam.
> 
> deuces,
> 
> -diz


	4. God's Got Jokes

_ February 12th _

_ Saturday _

 

Daryl wakes up naturally, his alarm not set on weekends, and he’s pleased that Carol is beside him. Lately, she’s been making it a point to spend as little time in bed with him as possible, so he considers this to be a good sign.

 

He blinks his eyes open and finds her curled in a ball facing him. He smiles at the sight, reveling in the fact that she looks peaceful for once. He scoots in closer to her and gently puts a hand on her hip. She stirs and he stills.

 

“Mm,” she mumbles, eyes still shut. “Time is it?”

 

“Quarter after ten,” he says, lifting up his head to glance at the digital alarm clock behind Carol on the nightstand. He lays back down. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”

 

“‘S’okay,” she says with a yawn, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and squinting at him. “Technically I was taking a nap. I woke up at seven.”

 

“...Stomach?” Daryl asks hesitantly, not sure how much of last night’s conversation has stuck.

 

“Stomach,” she agrees. “I think it’s getting worse every day. I threw up at work yesterday. That’s the first time that’s happened.”

 

“I’ll go to the store later,” Daryl assures her. “Pick you up some things to try that might help. If you want, I mean.”

 

“That’d be nice. Thank you.”

 

“Yeah,” Daryl says lamely. She smiles softly at him and snuggles in against him.

 

“It’s okay,” she says, letting Daryl curl his arm around her. “You can talk about it. I told you I’d cut the crap, and I plan to.”

 

“Okay,” he says, relieved. “Then how bad is it? I’ve kinda just been playing a guessing game.”

 

“It’s usually bad in the morning and stays pretty level. It’s at its worst in the afternoon. So far it tends to taper off at nighttime, but even that isn’t always the case. You heard me Monday night.”

 

“So basically what you’re saying is you feel like shit pretty much all the time?”

 

“I mean...yeah, kinda.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Daryl says, feeling guilty. 

 

“Not your fault,” she says, and then quickly amends. “Well, not entirely your fault, anyway. 48% your fault, 48% mine, and 4% tequila’s fault.”

 

Daryl snorts.

 

“Feel like we should give tequila more credit,” he says.

 

“Okay, how about 100% tequila’s fault, and we’re blameless victims? I like that better, actually.”

 

“Me too.”

 

Carol laughs and it’s such a pleasant sound. He hasn’t heard her laugh in days. Usually that’s his prerogative, though he’s certainly gotten more liberal with his laughs ever since she came into his life.

 

They fall silent, neither of them sleeping, but rather resting in a semi-doze. 

 

“Hey,” Carol says, breaking the silence after a while.

 

“Hm?”

 

“I think we should talk about something.”

 

“‘Kay,” Daryl says, trying not to sound wary. He angles himself so he can see her face. “What about?”

 

“So last night,” Carol says, fiddling with the edge of the comforter. “When you said that you thought getting it tested was worth the effort—did that mean that if it turns out it’s healthy you’d definitely want to keep it?”

 

“Thought you said that’s what you wanted,” Daryl frowns. Had he misunderstood?

 

“I do—at least I think I do—but is that why  _ you  _ wanna keep it? Because of me? Or because of it?”

 

Daryl hasn’t let himself think too hard about that particular question, because he didn’t want to get attached to one idea or the other if it turned out Carol wanted the opposite, but he’s pretty sure he’s known the answer from the jump, whether he’d been acknowledging it or not.

 

“‘Cause of it,” he says quietly. Carol meets his eye, surprised. 

 

“Yeah?” she asks. Daryl shrugs.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“It doesn’t scare you?”

 

“Pfft, I didn’t say that. It scares me shitless. But I can be scared and still wanna go through with it, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Carol whispers, brow furrowed.

 

“Hey,” he asks, rubbing her arm. “What is it?”

 

She doesn’t answer right away, gazing just past his shoulder looking thoughtful.

 

“Why do you want it?” she asks finally, sounding like that wasn’t exactly what she meant but didn’t know how else to put it.

 

“I dunno,” Daryl says. He knows he wants it more out of intuition than from some linear thought pattern, so, unsurprisingly, it’s hard for him to put it into words. He’ll try, though, for her. He says, “Guess the idea that me and you made somethin’ like that makes me feel some type of way—like we got this crazy thing that's ours, you know? Somethin’ only we could’ve made, and I wanna see it. I wanna have it. You don’t paint the, I dunno, Mona Lisa and then think to yourself, ‘well, I don’t give a shit about this,’ right?

 

“And like, right now it’s just some doodle we drew, it ain’t the whole picture, and maybe we won’t get to finish it, but if it ends up that we can, then I think it’s definitely worth finishing and seeing what awesome shit it ends up bein’ once it’s done.

 

“I dunno, that pro’ly doesn’t make a lick of sense, but…” he trails off, but Carol shakes her head.

 

“It makes sense,” she says quietly, eyes welling up. He’s not sure what he said to make her cry, so he just holds her tighter still.

 

“I know it’d be hard as hell, don’t get me wrong,” he says. “We’re just finally gettin’ our finances in order and this would fuckin’ wreck ‘em, not to mention I ain’t got the first clue on how to parent—not even a little. Ha, plus your daddy would definitely hate my goddamn guts for gettin’ his teenage daughter pregnant, but...I dunno, I just keep goin’ back to the idea that it’d be cool.”

 

Carol snorts. “Cool, huh?” she asks, grinning. Daryl shrugs sheepishly.

 

“You know what I mean.”

 

“I do,” Carol says. “And I think I feel the same.”

 

“‘Kay. Then if the tests are good...we keep it?”

 

“If the tests are good we keep it,” Carol agrees. A heavy silence falls over them as the weight of the decision sinks in.

 

“You gotta start treating yourself like it’s gonna turn out alright, then,” Daryl says. “No more smokin’.”

 

“Ugh,” Carol grumbles.

 

“Feel like it’s half my fault for gettin’ you hooked in the first place. Tell you what, we’ll both quit.”

 

“ _ You’re _ gonna quit?” Carol asks with a raised eyebrow. “How long have you been smoking?”

 

“Since I was fourteen, so it’s well past time I kicked the habit. Don’t need to go into my twenties with the lungs of a seventy year old coal miner.”

 

“Hmph,” Carol huffs. “Fine. Fair warning, though, my hormones are  _ all  _ over the place. Add withdrawal on top of that and I might be a supreme bitch for a while.”

 

“Pro’ly won’t be much better, I haven’t gone a day without a cigarette in years.”

 

“Let’s do our best not to kill each other, then.”

 

“Deal.”

 

“Do we get one last hurrah?” Carol asks solemnly. Daryl regards her, unsure if it’s worth it. “Just one, and I’ll throw the rest in the trash, I promise. Even though that’s so wasteful...maybe we should just finish what we have.”

 

“No,” Daryl says. “One last hurrah, then trash. Then I’m gonna clean up Henry’s morning shit and throw it on top so neither of us goes diggin’ for them.”

 

“Being pregnant sucks ass.”

 

“Yeah, don’t sound like no walk in the park, that’s for damn sure. You can torture me to make it a bit better, though, take away my cigarettes.”

 

“This was  _ your  _ idea.”

 

“Yeah, but I’m still gonna bitch.”

 

“If I can’t have drugs, then you can’t have drugs.”

 

“Fine. Though that makes me wonder, do pregnant ladies need to cut the caffeine? Is it bad for you?”

 

“Daryl, I swear to God, if you take away my cigarettes and my coffee at the same time I will almost certainly commit arson.”

 

“...We’ll start with just the cigarettes, then.”

 

“Yes. Now get up. Let’s go out on the porch and say our final goodbyes.” 

 

—-

 

(3:09p) -we tlked-

 

(3:13p) >Yeah? How'd you get her to open up?<

 

(3:16p) -lmao-

 

(3:16p) -we had an argument last nite n thn like-

 

(3:16p) -actually nvm but we tlked-

 

(3:18p) ~wait, no, not never mind, what happened?~

 

(3:21p) -we...had angry sex-

 

(3:23p) ~ahahahaha.~

 

(3:24p) -stfu-

 

(3:25p) >Hey man, if it worked.<

 

(3:27p) -it did we're a lot better now-

 

(3:28p) ~what’d she say? i mean after you guys fucked your feelings away?~

 

(3:30p) -watch it im quitting smoking n im gna b real irritable here soon so tread lightly-

 

(3:32p) >Hmmmm, why are you quitting smoking?<

 

(3:32p) ~is it because you guys are keeping the New Year's Eve Whoopsie??~

 

(3:35p) -we're gna try wut u said rick n get the nyew tested-

 

(3:35p) -if its sick she'll get an abortion n if its not well…-

 

(3:37p) >Damn. So you guys might be parents.<

 

(3:38p) -mb-

 

(3:38p) -dnt wna get my hopes up abt it-

 

(3:40p) ~you’re hoping for it, then? you want this?~

 

(3:44p) -yeah i think i do-

 

(3:45p) -like its prob a terrible idea lmao we're broke n im not even 19 yet but idk-

 

(3:45p) -its corny af n if u tell nyone i said this i'll kill u but i rly like the idea of havin smthn she n i made n sharing the xperience w/ her bc u kno i luv her or w/e-

 

(3:45p) -christ thts embarrassing 2 say-

 

(3:47p) >That's not embarrassing.<

 

(3:47p) ~nah dude, that's sweet as hell.~

 

(3:47p) ~fucking wild to think you might seriously be going through with it, though. makes me feel old.~

 

(3:50p) -lol dnt we r way 2 young 4 this-

 

(3:50p) -fuk by the time the nyew is my age i wont even b 40 yet-

 

(3:50p) -if it happens i mean i need 2 not tlk abt it like its a sure thing-

 

(3:52p) ~odds are in your favor, though, that's good at least.~

 

(3:53p) -r they?-

 

(3:55p) ~yeah. if you don't know if she's sick then it's a 75% chance the nyew is healthy.~

 

(3:57p) >Did you do that math in your head?<

 

(3:58p) ~i mean, it's pretty basic. i am good at math, though. maybe i should major in math. i could be an accountant or something.~

 

(4:01p) >Do you want to be an accountant?<

 

(4:02p) ~...no.~

 

(4:03p) >Back to the drawing board.<

 

(4:05p) -75% chance-

 

(4:05p) -thts horrifying lmao-

 

(4:07p) ~i thought you wanted the odds to be in your favor.~

 

(4:08p) -i do but its still horrifying to think abt-

 

(4:08p) -fuk i need a cigarette y tf did i throw them away-

 

(4:11p) >Bc you don't want to smoke around Carol?<

 

(4:12p) ~and solidarity? i'm guessing she's quitting too?~

 

(4:15p) -ya we mite murder each other esp bc shes alrdy got mood swings apparently-

 

(4:17p) ~it’s hell for you, though.~

 

(4:17p) ~i meant healthier.~

 

(4:18p) -1st one was more accurate-

 

(4:20p) >You know what they say: having a New Year's Day Whoopsies changes everything.<

 

(4:21p) -not sure thts how tht saying goes-

 

(4:21p) -but ur prob rite-

 

(4:22p) ~think about it, bud, this could just be the beginning.~

 

(4:24p) -...gr8-

 

—-

 

_ February 13th _

_ Sunday _

 

(10:29p) ~morning guys!~

 

(10:34p) -go fuk urself glenn-

 

(10:36p) ~okay! you're in a mood!~

 

(10:38p) >Rofl, withdrawal kicking in, brother?<

 

(10:42p) -u can fuk urself 2-

 

(10:43p) - _ you silenced the chat _ -

 

Daryl has a headache. The type of headache that makes his temples throb. He never thought he was that heavy of a smoker until he couldn’t have them anymore. Both he and Carol are laying in bed even though it’s nearly eleven, and it’d be nice having a lazy Sunday together if she didn’t have morning sickness and they both weren’t on the verge of wanting to start a fight club just to get some irritation out of their system.

 

“We should get up,” Carol says, scrolling mindlessly on her phone and making no moves to stand. 

 

“Mm,” Daryl says.

 

“Henry’s whining.”

 

“I let him out a couple hours ago, he’s fine.”

 

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Henry starts barking and they both groan. Daryl rolls himself off the side of the mattress and trudges out into the kitchen to Henry’s crate. Henry’s whole body shakes with excitement at the sight of him, and Daryl rolls his eyes at him.

 

“You’re a pain in the ass,” says Daryl. Henry wags his tail harder. Shaking his head, Daryl opens the door and the dog immediately bolts. “Incoming!” Daryl shouts as a warning, and it is quickly followed up by the sound of mattress springs bouncing and Carol squealing. Daryl shuffles back to their bedroom and sees Henry taking up most of his spot, his head resting on Carol’s belly, and he suddenly puts two and two together.

 

“I know why Henry’s been actin’ so weird,” he says. 

 

“Hm? Why?” Carol asks, giving Henry ear scratches.

 

“He knows you’re pregnant,” Daryl explains, and Carol furrows her brow.

 

“You think?” she asks, frowning down at their obnoxious dog child who is leaning into Carol’s touch with his stupid, sloppy grin. 

 

“Wouldn’t put it past him. All them hormone changes and shit? You pro’ly smell different to him. That’s why he won’t leave your side and is barkin’ at strangers and shit. He’s protectin’ you.”

 

“Oh, sweet baby,” Carol says, sticking her lower lip out and holding his cheeks. “That’s so sweet of you. I wish you didn’t smell so bad, ‘cause otherwise I’d cuddle you all day. But you have to go away now, because if I keep smelling your fur I am definitely going to throw up in this bed.” 

 

“I gave him a bath two days ago.”

 

“I know, I can smell the shampoo, too, it’s horrible,” Carol says grimacing. She turns a little green. Daryl goes over and scoops up Henry into his arms, which is quite the struggle as the dog squirms all over the place, trying to escape. 

 

“I’ll put him outside. Want me to grab you somethin’ while I’m up? Them ginger candy things seemed to help yesterday.” 

 

“Yeah, that’d be…” She covers her mouth with one hand and holds up a finger with the other. Daryl pauses, Henry still fighting him. Carol takes a few breaths and then nods. “I’m good. Those ginger things would be lovely, thank you.” 

 

Daryl nods. He takes Henry outside and hooks him up to his chain. The dog looks up at him, distraught, and Daryl frowns. “Yeah, I’m worried about her, too,” he tells him. “She’ll be aight, though, she’s tough.” He kicks Henry’s favorite red ball over to him and goes back inside. 

 

He rummages in the kitchen and gets the ginger candies, as well as a glass of water and some saltine crackers. While he’s at it, he finds the bottle of painkillers he bought and shakes two into his hand. Not wanting to dirty another glass, he tilts his head into the sink and swallows the pills by drinking water straight from the faucet. 

 

“Here, babe,” he says when he returns to the bedroom. He sits it all on the nightstand and unwraps a candy for her. She opens her mouth and sticks out her tongue at him. He huffs a small laugh and pops the candy into her mouth for her. 

 

“Fanks,” she says, sucking on it.

 

“Mhm,” he says, climbing back into bed. 

 

“Hey, look at this and tell me if it looks like what I think it does,” Carol says.

 

“What?” Daryl asks. In response, Carol pushes the comforter away and lifts up her shirt. 

 

“I thought I was just bloated, but I was looking in the mirror earlier, and do you think I’m already showing?” 

 

Daryl regards her belly. Usually when she lays on her back her stomach gets pulled taut, but now there’s a definitive slope right around her navel down to her pelvis that wasn’t there before.

 

“I think you are, actually, yeah.” Carol shakes her head, narrowing her eyes in bemusement.

 

“It’s early for that, isn’t it?” 

 

“Beats me,” Daryl says with a shrug. “Don’t know shit about any of this.”

 

“Me neither.” She pulls her shirt down and picks her phone back up, unlocks it, and adds, “Let’s find out.” 

 

She scoots up and sits with her back against the backboard of the bed, and Daryl does the same. He watches her pull up a browser and type in “pregnancy week-by-week.”

 

“How many weeks ago was New Year’s Eve?” she asks. 

 

“Uh…” Daryl pats around the bed for his own phone and pulls up his calendar app. He counts backwards and says, “About six weeks?”

 

“So I’m at six weeks...or wait, no, this says you start counting two weeks before the day you had sex.”

 

“What, why?”

 

“I...don’t know. Something about ovulation? This is confusing. Whatever, let’s say I’m somewhere between six and eight weeks.” She scrolls down until she finds a section talking about pregnancy at eight weeks. She grimaces. “This is good information, but I don’t like how it’s worded. It’s all cheerful, like the people who read this are sure they’re gonna...you know, get to keep it.”

 

“We don’t gotta read it,” Daryl tells her gently.

 

“I know, but I want to know what the fuck is going on in my body. Speaking of, hold on.” She reaches over on the nightstand and unwraps another candy, the first one not even completely dissolved. At Daryl’s raised eyebrow, she says, “Wasn’t strong enough.” 

 

“Drink some water, too,” he tells her. She gives him a nasty look but takes a few sips anyway.

 

“‘Kay, so this says morning sickness is a symptom, obviously. ‘Morning sickness is misnamed, as it should be called all-day sickness,’” she reads aloud. “Yeah, no shit.”

 

“What else?”

 

“Sore breasts. Oh man, is that why they’ve hurt so bad lately? I thought I was going crazy. I never get that with my period so I didn’t think to connect it to this.” 

 

“Fatigue,” Daryl says, reading over her shoulder. “Wonder if you got that one.”

 

“Ha ha,” Carol deadpans. “Weird dreams. Oh man! That reminds me, I had such a weird dream last night.” 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“Yeah, it’s gonna make you wanna punch Glenn in the face, though.”

 

“Uh, why?”

 

“Because in it Glenn was the one who got me pregnant, and everyone was really casual about it. Like I told you and you were like, ‘huh, yeah, that makes sense,’ and you and I were together but Glenn was like, a part of our relationship? Like it was some weird three-way thing, though I don’t think you and Glenn were into each other or anything.”

 

“Jesus Christ.”

 

“Shush, I’m not done. So I guess I had the whole pregnancy, but never actually looked pregnant or anything, and then Rick came to help me give birth, because he changed his career to a doctor or something, I don’t know. And then I gave birth to like, fifty pizzas, and Glenn had to go deliver them, and that was the end.” 

 

“Pffft, what the fuck?”

 

“Right? It made absolutely no sense but it was super vivid.”

 

“Safe to say you got that symptom, then?”

 

“Definitely.”

 

“What else we got?”

 

“Heightened sense of smell.”

 

“Yeah you got that one. You can smell everything lately. They should hire you to sniff out drugs like a police dog.”

 

“Shut up,” Carol laughs, hitting him in the arm.

 

“Does that one say nasal congestion? Why the hell would being pregnant do that?”

 

“Um, it says increased mucus production. Lovely. As if quitting smoking isn’t gonna make me cough up crap from my lungs, now I get to have my face all stuffed up.” 

 

“This is all real weird.”

 

“And this is just week eight. I bet it just gets weirder. They got stuff about fetal development in here, too.” She glances at Daryl and gives a small, sad smile. “It okay if I skip that part? I don’t wanna...that’s too much if we end up not keeping it, you know?”

 

“‘Course,” Daryl says, squeezing her arm. “Don’t gotta read about the other weeks neither. Take it day by day, aight?” 

 

“Alright,” Carol agrees. She turns off her phone screen and leans back sighing. “I’m worried,” she says quietly.

 

“Lot to worry about,” Daryl says. “Gotta be more specific.” Carol huffs a laugh.

 

“There  _ is  _ a lot to worry about, isn’t there? But I dunno, I was just thinkin’ about how we don’t know how long it’ll take to get tests done, or if we’ll even be able to, and the whole time my body’s gonna keep changing. I mean, if I already got this little bump showing, how much bigger is it gonna get before we know if...It’s like the longer this goes on the harder it’s gonna be not to get attached, because there’s nothing I can do to forget that it’s happening.” She smirks at him and adds, “Plus I’m not  _ allowed  _ to forget.” 

 

“It ain’t fair,” Daryl agrees. “I got myself all up in my feelings, but at least I don’t gotta literally carry it around like you do.”

 

“Life’s a fuckin’ roller coaster lately, isn’t it?” Carol asks, leaning her head against Daryl’s shoulder. He snorts.

 

“‘Cause it weren’t before?” he asks. 

 

“Pfft, yeah, I guess that’s a good point.”

 

“Seems pretty on brand for us, truth be told.”

 

“Unfortunately. I’m good if this is the last big twist in the road we get for a while, though.”

 

“Can’t see how it can get anymore twisted.”

 

“Watch what you say, God’s got jokes.”

 

“My bad.”

 

The both let out identical sighs.

 

“Daryl?” Carol says.

 

“Hm?”

 

“I want a cigarette.”

 

“God right?” 

 

The exchange smiles. Daryl kisses her on the temple and holds her close. Roller coaster or not, at least they’re on it together.

 

—-

 

_ February 14th _

_ Monday _

 

(9:15a) *Hey turd, happy Valentine’s Day, why didn’t you wake me up before you left??*

 

(9:22a) -bc u threw up twice last nite n needed the slp-

 

(9:24a) *Gdi, even when I think I get away with it you notice anyway.*

 

(9:29a) -im a lite sleeper-

 

(9:29a) -i wud have got up w/ u but i figured ud get annoyed abt it-

 

(9:32a) *I’m throwing up all the time, you don’t have to be there for all of them. It’s not exactly attractive.*

 

(9:35a) -dnt like u bein sick all alone-

 

(9:39a) *Daryl!*

 

(9:44a) -?-

 

(9:45a) *You got me flowers you romantic bitch!*

 

(9:48a) -found a bunch of wild white roses whn i took henry 4 a walk n thot ud like em idk-

 

(9:50a) *The card though. You’re so sweet. :((( *

 

(9:55a) -lol its nothin fancy-

 

(9:57a) *Nothing fancy my ass.*

 

(9:59a) *“Carol, I think this holiday is real dumb bc I love you every day, not just once a year, but I’d probably be a shitty boyfriend if I didn’t do something so here are some flowers. Flowers are a thing people do, right? Henry helped pick them out. He loves you more than I do but he’s the only one. I would’ve got you chocolates but I figured those would suck ass to throw up so we’ll save those for when you can eat more than crackers and applesauce. Whatever. Words are hard but know that I find new reasons to love you every fucking day even tho that doesn’t seem possible. I’m every bit yours for as long as you’ll have me. Love, Daryl. P.S. Sorry for knocking you up.”* 

 

(10:00a) *I fucking cried.*

 

(10:03a) -k but u cried @ a lifetime movie yesterday so-

 

(10:05a) *The plot twist at the end, though! You know he’s gonna kill again.*

 

(10:08a) -carol it was from the 90s n the literal title was mother may i slp w/ danger-

 

(10:08a) -u cried @ a movie w/ tht title-

 

(10:11a) *Ok, you’re no longer romantic, now you’re just a dick.*

 

(10:13a) - ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ -

 

(10:16a) *Lmao jerk.*

 

(10:16a) *Ok I need you to do one more sweet thing for me today.*

 

(10:16a) *And when your automatic response is to say no, remember you just made fun of a pregnant woman crying.*

 

(10:19a) -mmmmmk wut is it?-

 

(10:20a) *I have officially stopped being able to fit in my jeans comfortably and even my leggings are a little tight. I lost weight after everything that happened last year, but I still have a lot of my old clothes. Buuuuuuut…*

 

(10:22a) -but wut?-

 

(10:23a) *They’re in boxes.*

 

(10:23a) *In the basement.*

 

(10:25a) - :/ -

 

(10:26a) *Pretty pretty please will you find them for me? I tried going down there a little bit ago to see if I could find them but the mothball smell made me nauseous.*

 

(10:27a) - :/ -

 

(10:28a) *You are not going to get attacked by any ghosts.*

 

(10:29a) - /: -

 

(10:30a) *It’ll be good for you! Help you conquer your fears!*

 

(10:32a) - :////// -

 

(10:33a) *Remember how much you love me? And how guilty you feel that I have to be pregnant? And remember when you said I was allowed to torture you?* 

 

(10:36a) -u r-

 

(10:36a) -so so so so lucky-

 

(10:36a) -tht ilu- 

 

(10:38a) *Luckiest girl in the world. <3* 

 

(10:38a) *I still don’t understand why the basement scares you so much.*

 

(10:42a) -ghost-

 

(10:43a) *You are a very bizarre man, Mr. Dixon, but I appreciate your sacrifice. Tyvm.*

 

(10:43a) *I gotta go to work now. I’m gonna talk to my boss today btw, so I’ll lyk what she says. Love you, text you when I can, sugar muffin.*

 

(10:45a) -uh huh-

 

(10:45a) -drive safe ttyl mb if i dnt get murdered-

 

(10:46a) *Omfg you’re a disaster.*

 

(10:46a) *Goodbye!*

 

—-

 

(12:04p) -wut keeps u safe from ghosts?-

 

(12:09p) >Knowing that they aren’t real?<

 

(12:11p) ~uhhh, yeah they totally are.~

 

(12:12p) >Source?<

 

(12:16p) ~my grandmother came over from korea with my parents and lived with us and she was old and sickly and would constantly talk about creepy things. she had all these HORRIFYING stories about gwisin, which is essentially a korean term for ghosts. when me and my sisters were little and she would watch us she would tell us about how the house she grew up in had this gwisin that would appear as this faceless woman in white who would float above the floor, and would always show up at nighttime in her and her brother’s room.*

 

(12:17p) ~she said that the longer a gwisin inhabits the mortal world the stronger they become.~

 

(12:17p) ~and that people who were bad in life are bad in death, and are capable of harming you.~

 

(12:17p) ~i was like six when she told me this, guys, my grandma was fucked up.~

 

(12:20p) -stop stop stop nope stop-

 

(12:20p) -dnt like tht-

 

(12:22p) >Ghosts aren’t real.<

 

(12:23p) -wrong-

 

(12:23p) ~they’re super real.~

 

(12:27p) >You guys are pathetic.<

 

(12:29p) ~anyway, ignoring rick, why are you asking, daryl?~

 

(12:34p) -i need 2 go dig arnd my basement 2 find smthn 4 carol n she doesnt believe me but there is def smthn down there-

 

(12:36p) ~does henry ever act weird around it?~

 

(12:40p) -he side steps it all the time n has nvr been down the stairs-

 

(12:44p) ~yeah your shit’s haunted.~

 

(12:47p) >Oh for the love of god.<

 

(12:50p) -ik it is but wut do i do abt it?-

 

(12:52p) ~my grandma kept a lot of sacred objects in the house as protection. you could try that?~

 

(12:55p) -yeah lemme just go get sum stuff blessed real fast after work wtf glenn-

 

(12:57p) ~burn some sage?~

 

(1:00p) >Why don’t you go all out and hire an exorcist?<

 

(1:02p) ~ghosts aren’t the same as demons, rick.~

 

(1:02p) -how wud n exorcist get rid of a ghost?-

 

(1:05p) >You are both insufferable.<

 

(1:08p) ~just get in and out as fast as you can and hopefully you won’t get hurt.~

 

(1:10p) >That’s what she said.<

 

(1:12p) ~this is a serious conversation, grimes.~

 

(1:12p) ~(solid tho.)~

 

(1:13p) ~just remember daryl that as long as you don’t dismember it, it won’t dismember you.~

 

(1:13p) ~no, not dismember, i meant disembowel.~

 

(1:13p) ~***disrespect.~

 

(1:15p) - :///// -

 

(1:17p) >Have fun getting disemboweled, Daryl!<

 

(1:21p) - _ you blocked grp prjct rick _ -

 

(1:22p) -im still in withdrawal he can get fuked-

 

(1:25p) ~hell yeah, i’m not the person you hate the most today!~

 

(1:27p) -not yet-

 

(1:27p) -ice is thin tho so watch it-

 

(1:29p) ~i will do my damndest, my detoxing friend.~

 

—-

 

Here’s the thing about Daryl’s basement: It is 100% haunted.

 

Here’s the thing about Daryl: He is 100% terrified of ghosts. 

 

Here’s the problem: Daryl is 100% in love with Carol, and she asked him to go to the basement and he can’t find it in him to refuse. 

 

Which is why he is currently sitting on the floor of the kitchen, arms wrapped around his knees, staring at the door to the basement staircase, trying to convince himself he’s being a pussy. Daryl is not easily frightened. He grew up in an abusive household, and had an older brother who liked to torment him, so pain doesn’t scare him. He can walk around the woods in the dark without a problem. Driving his motorcycle at top speed down the interstate is simply a fun way to pass the time. 

 

But he is afraid of ghosts. The reason could be a number of things. Maybe he stayed up late unsupervised and saw one too many horror movies as a child. Maybe it’s the spooky stories Merle would tell him around the campfire when they were camping, and the subsequent jokes he’d play on him after the fact just because he liked making his little brother scream bloody murder. Maybe he’s just afraid of ghosts and there is no deeper meaning. Whatever the reason, it all amounts to one thing, which is that he  _ doesn’t want to go downstairs _ .

 

He had a bad feeling about the basement the first time he saw it. The hair on his arm had stood on end, and he’d felt a chill even though it’d been the middle of the Georgian summer. And every now and again he’ll hear noises that sound like things being knocked around, or the stairs creaking, or faint footsteps, and he always goes to make sure the door is shut tight. Carol isn’t convinced, of course, and has always written his fears off as tricks of the mind, but he knows what he’s heard. He’s thankful that whatever’s in the house confines itself to the basement—he feels perfectly safe upstairs—but that doesn’t matter much now that all their storage is crammed down there in boxes. 

 

“Henry, come,” Daryl says to the dog that’s laying down in the corner chewing on a bone. He gets to his feet, tags on his collar jangling, and trots over to Daryl and sits beside him, looking at him expectantly. “You’re coming with me,” Daryl informs him. Henry tilts his head. 

 

Daryl knows better than to expect that Henry will go willingly—he’s smarter than that—so he takes Henry’s leash and clips it on him. Henry lets his tongue loll happily, excited at the prospect of a walk, right up until Daryl leads him to the basement door, and immediately he recoils.

 

“I know,” Daryl tells him. “But I ain’t goin’ alone.” 

 

It’s a struggle to get the dog down the stairs. He tugs on his leash so hard he gags, whining the whole way down. It doesn’t fill Daryl with confidence. 

 

They get to the bottom and Daryl pulls the string on the single bulb hanging from the ceiling. One would think light would help things, but in fact it does the exact opposite, casting an eerie, golden glow over the dank, unfinished basement. Cobwebs hang from the ceiling, and thick layers of dust lay over top of everything. Cardboard boxes are stacked along the back wall, all the way across the room. Of course.

 

Daryl drags Henry over to them, who he knows is just waiting for Daryl’s grip to loosen around the leash so he can bolt right back up the stairs. Daryl tries to distract himself with the task at hand. All the boxes are meticulously labelled—thank you, Carol—and it only takes a minute for him to find the box with “CAROL’S OLD CLOTHES” scrawled on the side with permanent marker. 

 

Just as he’s reaching over to rearrange boxes so he can grab the one he needs, he feels a prickle on the back of his neck, and gets the distinct impression he’s being watched. To make matters worse, Henry starts growling. Henry  _ never  _ growls. (Never, unless he thinks someone is trying to harm pregnant Carol.) 

 

Daryl’s head snaps to where Henry is staring. It is a completely empty corner; not a thing in it. Awesome. 

 

Then Henry starts barking, and Daryl is  _ done _ . He yanks the box out, the ones stacked on top of it tumbling and crashing to the ground. He doesn’t give a shit. He let’s go of Henry’s leash, and is up the stairs and back in the kitchen almost as fast as the dog is. He slams the door shut, and then sticks a chair under the handle for good measure. 

 

If ever Carol needed a proof of his love…

 

Henry is glaring at the door, teeth bared while Daryl catches his breath. 

 

“Sorry, boy,” he mutters. Henry casts him a look that clearly says, “Yeah, fuck you, man.” Daryl concedes that he deserves it. 

 

Daryl carries the box to the bedroom and sits it down beside the dresser. He turns to go back to the living room before noticing the red envelope propped up on his pillow. Frowning, he sits on the edge of the bed and picks it up. His name is written neatly on the front in Carol’s handwriting. He tears it open roughly, ripping the envelope nearly in half, and pulls out a card that has sparkly, pink lettering that says “ _ You’re My Favorite Pain in the Ass _ .” He laughs to himself and opens it to find a short novel scribbled inside, going all the way onto the back.

 

It reads:

 

_ Mon Chéri, _

 

_ What a fucking roller coaster, huh? I guess that’s what you get for giving strangers rides to work. It occurred to me recently that for all the not-talking you do, you’ve expressed your love for me through words more than I have, so this is an attempt to fix that.  _

 

_ I never told you, but the day we first met had been one of the worst days of my life. Mom’s doctor had just declared her case a “waiting game,” dad and I were fighting, and I was about two seconds away from a meltdown. When my car battery died I thought, well, what’s even the fucking point anymore? And then out of nowhere you walked up and changed my life. You made me okay when okay was something I didn’t even remember how to be, and for that I thank you. _

 

_ Look, I have no idea what’s gonna happen with this craziness we’re going through now. It might end in heartbreak, and I know that, but I also know that you’re the only one who can make me feel okay when I think I never will be able to again. And if I learn nothing else from this experience, I have at least learned that I want a future with you, whatever it may look like. However long it may be.  _

 

_ Loving you is my greatest privilege, Daryl. For all the times you’ve been told you’re not worth it, I want to bury it with affection so you never feel that way again. Happy Valentine’s Day, my love.  _

 

_ Thanks for all of it, _

_ Carol _

 

Daryl reads through it over and over until he practically has it memorized. His chest is tight and his eyes are stinging suspiciously. He blows out a long breath and goes to the closet where he keeps a small safe. He puts in the code and pops it open. The only other thing inside is the single picture of his mom he has. He puts the card in on top of it and locks it shut. 

 

An hour or so later the front door opens and Carol comes inside, circles under eyes but a soft smile on her face. She’s wearing a baggy shirt to hide what’s underneath, and her hair is falling out of the bun on the top of her head. She is  _ so  _ beautiful.

 

“Hey, how are mmph—” Carol starts, but Daryl cuts her off with a long kiss. She tastes like ginger candy and peppermint gum. He wraps her in his arms and hugs her close. 

 

“I love you,” he whispers in her ear. He pulls away, cups her face, and kisses her on the forehead. 

 

“Is it safe to assume you found my card?”

 

“Yeah,” Daryl says, smiling. “Thank you.’

 

“Thank  _ you _ ,” she says. “Here, come sit, I wanna tell you what my boss said.” She takes him by the hand and leads him to the couch. Needing to be close to her right now, he maneuvers them so that they’re laying lengthwise, her back against his chest while he holds her around her middle.

 

“You talk to her then?” he asks, noticing her belly is harder than it usually is where his hands are resting against her.

 

“Yeah. It was awkward telling her I was pregnant, but she said she’d noticed I wasn’t feeling well so I don’t think she was all that surprised. I told her our problem, and that I don’t want to be tested, but that for personal reasons I can’t keep it if it’s got the gene, and I asked her if she knew anyone who’d be willing to test it instead of me, and she barely had to think about it. She said she’s got an obstetrician friend in Savannah who she did residency with.”

 

“She think this doc would be willing to do it?”

 

“More than thinks it, she called him for me. She said he owes her a favor, and managed to get me an appointment for March first.”

 

“Seriously?”

 

“Yeah. I guess he was really understanding about the situation, and said he’d be willing. You think Dale will let you take the day so you can drive down with me?” 

 

“I’m sure he’ll be cool with it. I’ll just work extra that week, no big deal. What exactly are they gonna do to you, though? I dunno how it works.”

 

“I’m not super sure about it either. I guess they take part of its placenta, either through the stomach or through, you know, my vagina, neither of which is particularly appealing, but I guess it’s outpatient, and I don’t have to go to the hospital or anything, which is good because you know how I feel about hospitals.”

 

Daryl briefly realizes that her hospital phobia may be a problem if she was going to have to deliver a baby, but, he figures, that’s a bridge they may not even get to, let alone cross, so he pushes it aside.

 

“Okay,” he agrees. “Then we’ll do it. How long do the tests take?”

 

“She said it’d probably take about a week or so.”

 

“Only a few more weeks of waiting, and then we’ll know one way or another.”

 

“Mm, then we’ll know,” she agrees. “I dunno if my insurance will cover it, though. She said I could make a claim, but they might deny it since it’s technically not required.”

 

“We’ll figure it out somehow,” Daryl assures her. She nods.

 

“Are you still able to come with me on Wednesday to my appointment?” 

 

“Yeah, I changed my lunch break, and Axel knows I might run over time.”

 

“We’re doing this, huh?”

 

“Guess so.” He rests his chin on her shoulder. “It’ll be okay, baby.”

 

“I know,” she says, a smile in her voice. “I told you, you always get me to okay eventually.”

 

—-

 

_ February 16th _

_ Wednesday _

 

Daryl is in a plastic chair watching Carol talk to a nurse, not unlike when he did the day she had her appendectomy. She’s cracking her knuckles nervously so he scoots his chair over and takes hold of her hand. She glances at him and smiles.

 

“So you’re here for an arm implant?” the nurse asks, looking at her chart.

 

“Uh, well,” Carol starts sheepishly. “That was the  _ original  _ plan, but...” 

 

“But you’re not interested now?” the nurse asks, frowning up at her.

 

“I am, except I can’t because...I am pregnant.” 

 

“Oh,” the nurse says, surprised. 

 

“Yeah, a little late for birth control. Y’all should do somethin’ about how far out you gotta book for an appointment,” she jokes. The nurse gives her a sympathetic smile.

 

“Alright, well that changes things. Do you have any idea of how far along you are?”

 

“Um,” Carol asks, looking at Daryl. “We think it happened on New Year’s Eve. Tequila,” she adds as explanation, and the nurse does let out a small laugh at that one.

 

“Okay, and is this your first time going to the doctor?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“And do you know what you’re planning to do?”

 

“That one’s a little complicated,” Carol says with a sigh. “I have to get some genetic testing done before I can decide. I have an appointment with an OB in a little less than two weeks. What we do, if we keep it or not, all depends on what the tests say.”

 

“Okay,” the nurse says, jotting notes down on her clipboard. “Well what I think we should do then is an ultrasound to see where exactly you are in your pregnancy, and then we’ll talk about what you should be doing until your appointment, alright?”

 

Carol hesitates, her grip on Daryl’s hand tightening.

 

“Do I...do I have to look at it?” she asks. “It’s just, since I don’t know if we’re gonna…” 

 

“No,” the nurse says firmly. “It’s just to make sure you’re healthy, but if you don’t want to look, that’s fine.” Carol nods her assent. “Alright, then I’m going to go let our ultrasound technician know. I’ll be right back.” She goes out the door and Carol blows out a big breath.

 

“How you doin’?” Daryl asks.

 

“I don’t even know,” she says, rubbing her face. “This is just a lot.” Daryl doesn’t have anything to say other than agreement, so he just strokes her hand with his thumb until the nurse comes back and leads them down the hall to another room.

 

It’s darker in this room, and there’s a table with stirrups and a big machine. A younger woman smiles at them.

 

“Hi Carol,” she says, reaching out to shake Carol’s hand. “And what’s your name?”

 

“Daryl,” Daryl mutters, briefly grasping her hand.

 

“Nice to meet you both. Now I’m told you’re pretty early in your pregnancy, is that right?”

 

“Yeah,” Carol mumbles, eyeing the chair and machine warily.

 

“Alright, since it’s early, then what we’re going to do is a transvaginal ultrasound because that will give us more accurate results, so why don’t you undress from the waist down and then go ahead and sit over there and put that sheet over top of you, okay?”

 

“Transvaginal,” Carol says flatly. “Lovely.” 

 

“I’ll give you some privacy. Do you want him to…” she nods at Daryl.

 

“He can stay,” Carol says, almost threateningly. The ultrasound tech just smiles and shows herself out. 

 

“Well this just gets better and better, huh?” Carol says, unbuttoning the pair of jeans Daryl risked his life for the other day.

 

“I’m startin’ to think pregnancy is just some fucked up form of torture,” Daryl agrees. “What’s transvaginal even mean?”

 

“It means they’re gonna shove a probe up my vagina to look at my insides,” Carol says, kicking her clothes off into a corner. Daryl helps her onto the chair. She pulls a thin paper sheet over herself and says, “Glad they gave me this, wouldn’t want to feel super exposed or anything. Nothing says modesty like a sheet made out of tissue paper.”

 

Daryl snorts.

 

The ultrasound tech comes back in and gives Carol a series of increasingly invasive instructions. (“Scoot down...no, scoot down further.”) Carol gives Daryl a long suffering look followed by a grimace as the ultrasound tech inserts the probe. 

 

“Fuck this,” Carol mouths, and Daryl kisses the top of her head.

 

Suddenly an image pops up on the screen. Carol immediately trains her eyes to the ceiling, but Daryl continues to watch. The ultrasound tech is respectful, aware of Carol’s pointed discomfort. She offers very little commentary as she snaps photos of whatever’s going on in Carol’s uterus. A weird, rhythmic sound fills the room, and Carol shuts her eyes tight. Oh, Daryl realizes, it’s a heartbeat. 

 

Well that’s...something.

 

The ultrasound tech moves and the rhythmic sound changes. It’s subtle, but suddenly it’s faster. Then the two sounds overlap. Daryl sees the ultrasound tech frown at the screen.

 

“What is it?” he asks. Carol snaps open her eyes and searches his. He gives her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, but waits for the ultrasound tech to answer.

 

“Hold on,” she says, distracted. She furrows her brow in concentration, and then something washes over her face. She leans back in her chair and sighs. “Carol?” she says carefully. 

 

“What?” Carol asks, eyes still on Daryl. 

 

“She okay?” Daryl asks. The ultrasound tech licks her bottom lip.

 

“Your nurse told me what’s going on, and that you’re having some testing done, so I know this is a sensitive issue, alright?”

 

“What’s wrong?” Carol asks sharply. The ultrasound tech exchanges a look with Daryl. She says,

 

“There are two heartbeats.” 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you've read my rly weird story "the ghosts of georgia" you know i have a thing about daryl being afraid of ghosts, so enjoy my strange subplot. more to come with Basement Ghost.
> 
> i make fun of my partner all the time bc he studies classics and does horse training, so all his writing has way too much information about roman history, and latin, and horses, but then i have a story about pregnancy and i'm like, "okay, but everyone definitely needs to know about transvaginal ultrasounds," so you know what? who am i to judge? to each their own weird obsession.
> 
> anyway, plot twist! hear more about it on thurdsay.
> 
> later, turds,  
> -diz


	5. Two Mona Lisas

_ February 16th _

_ Wednesday _

 

The silence that follows is deafening. Daryl’s mind tries cycling through every possible explanation, no matter how ridiculous—the ultrasound tech misheard, the sonogram is picking up Carol’s heartbeat, it has two hearts—but then Carol asks, “What the hell does that mean?” and the ultrasound tech says,

 

“It means you’re carrying twins,” and Daryl’s brain stops rationalizing, and instead, screeches to a halt. Carol’s looking at him pleadingly, as if he can fix this, but he’s just as lost as she.

 

“You sure?” Daryl manages, mouth dry as desert sand. The ultrasound tech points to the screen Carol’s still avoiding.

 

“You see that?” she asks him. She indicates a tiny blob inside a black bean shape. He nods. “And you see this right here?” she asks, pointing to the left of the first blob in a black bean to a fuzzier, smaller blob in a black bean. He nods again. “Those are two separate fetuses,” the ultrasound tech explains. “Definitely two.”

 

Daryl glances at Carol, whose face is an empty slate. She’s staring unblinkingly up at the ceiling, saying nothing, doing nothing. Daryl isn’t quite sure what to say or do himself so he can’t exactly blame her.

 

“I’m going to finish up here and then you can go back to your examination room while you wait for the doctor to go over your results, okay?”

 

Carol doesn’t acknowledge her at all. Daryl mumbles an okay for the both of them, and stands numbly at Carol’s side for the rest of the ultrasound. He can’t take his eyes off it. He keeps looking from one blob to the other, equally fascinated and sick.

 

“I’ll wait outside for you to get dressed and I’ll show you back to your room,” says the ultrasound tech once she’s got Carol all cleaned up. She steps goes out the door and Carol makes no moves to get up.

 

“Sweetheart…?” Daryl asks hesitantly.

 

“Give me a second,” she whispers. Daryl watches her warily as she takes several deep breaths. She then slides off the chair and gathers up her clothes. He’s not sure if she’s in a “hold me” mood, or an “avoid me” mood, so he just sort of hovers near her, hoping it counts as something in between.

 

They don’t say anything to each other once they’re back in the examination room. Carol sits on the table, and Daryl sits in a chair beside her, holding her hand in silence. Each second on the clock seems to tick by loud as a drumbeat, and Daryl feels claustrophobic between the white walls full of posters and pamphlets about STD checks and the importance of regular mammograms. Finally, the doctor comes in. She’s a severe looking woman, with a stethoscope hanging around her neck and her hair pulled up into a tight bun. She takes a seat on a rolling stool and faces Carol.

 

“I imagine you’re going through a bit of a shock right now, and that’s completely understandable. Let’s start by talking facts first, and then we can go from there, alright?” the doctor says pragmatically. Carol responds positively to her no-nonsense tone, nodding in agreement, and Daryl likes this doctor immediately.

 

“Now, are you the father?” the doctor asks, turning towards Daryl.

 

_ The father. _

 

“Yeah,” he mutters.

 

“Alright, well then you pay close attention, too.” She turns back to Carol without another word to Daryl. “Tell me a bit about your medical history? Your chart says your mother passed a year ago from Huntington’s, but you don’t know if you carry the defective gene yourself, correct?” Carol nods. “My nurse mentioned you’re going in for genetic testing. Are you finding out your status?”

 

“Not mine,” Carol says. “Its. Or, I guess...theirs?” 

 

Oh, Daryl thinks, that presents a problem, doesn’t it?

 

“Can we still do them tests if there are two of ‘em?” he asks in a rare moment of vocalizing his thoughts.

 

“Is the OB doing a CVS or an amniocentesis?” asks the doctor. Fuck if Daryl knows. He’s still not 100% sure what “OB” even stands for.

 

“CVS,” Carol answers quietly. He hates how heavy every word she says sounds.

 

“As long as the placentas are in an optimal position there shouldn’t be any problems taking samples from both of them. At first glance, my assessment would be that it should be just fine.” 

 

_ Both of them. Two. _ If Daryl’s this nauseous at the news of twins, he wonders how in the world Carol isn’t puking her guts out.

 

“How have you been feeling?” the doctor asks, reading Daryl’s mind.

 

“Shitty,” says Carol.

 

“Nausea? Vomiting?”

 

“Yes and yes.”

 

“Mm,” the doctor hums, jotting down notes. “Twin pregnancies will often amplify symptoms. You may be experiencing things more intensely than if this were a singleton pregnancy. How’s your energy level been?” 

 

“What energy?” Carol deadpans, and the doctor smiles.

 

“Completely normal,” she assures her. “Your body is directing all its effort into supplying your fetuses with an environment they can survive and thrive in. It takes a lot out of a person.”

 

“Right,” Carol says, frowning down at her lap.

 

“Now Carol, I realize there is a possibility that you might terminate this pregnancy, but as long as there’s a chance that you may continue it, you’re gonna want to start taking care of yourself like a pregnant woman. How much are you eating?”

 

“Um...I don’t know, not a lot. I can’t keep much down.”

 

“For twin pregnancies you’re gonna want to eat about 600 extra calories a day. For a woman your size we’d want you to gain roughly forty or so pounds.”

 

“Excuse me? How much?”

 

“Don’t worry too much about weight gain this early, especially with your morning sickness in full force. I’m going to write you a script for an anti-nausea pill. While you’re at the pharmacy you should pick up prenatal vitamins. You might want to try a B6 vitamin to help with the nausea as well. A simple 10mg should do fine. Make sure you’re drinking plenty of water. If it gets to the point that you’re not keeping  _ anything _ down, I want you to call. We don’t want you getting dehydrated.” The doctor rattles off these instructions nonchalantly while writing something on a notepad. She rips it off and hands it to Carol. It’s a sheet with the prescription scribbled illegibly on it. Carol stares at it, biting her lip.

 

“I just quit smoking,” she says. “I mean,  _ just _ quit, a few days ago, but before that I was smoking three or four a day.” She pauses, and in a small voice, asks, “Did I hurt them?” Daryl squeezes her hand.

 

“I’m sure you know smoking at all during pregnancy is discouraged, but it’s good that you stopped. I wouldn’t worry about it, what’s done is done, and focus on making sure you keep it up, alright?”

 

“Alright.”

 

“Same goes for drinking or any recreational drugs. Don’t clean any cat litter boxes. No raw fish. Limit your caffeine. Watch what kinds of fumes you’re inhaling if you’re doing any cleaning. No hot tubs, no tanning beds. And don’t look so overwhelmed, I’m going to give you plenty of reading material before you go, don’t worry.”

 

That doesn’t really make Daryl feel less overwhelmed.

 

“Now here’s something I want to ask you, Carol,” the doctor says, leaning forward a little and looking her in the eye. “From what I’m reading in your file and from what you’ve shared with me, you’ve been through some significant trauma, and this pregnancy is just one more thing on your plate, especially with the news that there are two in there instead of one. So Carol, tell me, what are you doing for your mental health?”

 

Carol blinks.

 

“Um...I don’t know?”

 

“Who’s your support system?”

 

“Daryl,” Carol says, glancing his way. He gives her a small smile.

 

“Who else? Family? Friends?”

 

“My friends are off at college. My family...well, my aunt’s okay, I guess?”

 

“Do you see anyone for your mental health?”

 

“I used to go to a grief group after my mom died, but, I dunno, life got in the way.”

 

The doctor hums and then pulls out her notepad again to write something else down.

 

“Here,” she says, tearing off another sheet. “This is a psychology department I recommend. I know the therapists there, and they’re all very wonderful. I can’t force you to go, but I want you to consider the gravitas of your situation, and how this might help. You both may benefit.”

 

Not fucking likely, Daryl doesn’t say. Instead, he simply sits politely while the doctor throws more information at them, and leaves them with a novel’s worth of papers and pamphlets to go through. It feels like an age before they’re finally able to leave.

 

Daryl revels in the fresh air once they get outside the building. There are a million thoughts running through his mind he can’t make heads or tails of, so instead he focuses his energy on Carol. She seems calm, and Daryl doesn’t trust it for a second; he knows the string is pulled tight and is about to snap. 

 

She keeps it together the whole walk to the car. He unlocks it, and they toss their reading material into the backseat. They both get in. The doors slam shut. 

 

That’s when she bursts into tears.

 

“Yeah, I know, sweetheart,” Daryl says, tugging her to him. The angle is awkward, but he pays it no mind. He strokes the back of her head and lets her sob into his shoulder. 

 

“What are we gonna do, Daryl?” she asks when she calms down enough to speak. “This was hard enough with one, but  _ two _ ? That fucks up everything.”

 

Daryl considers the statement.

 

“It don’t have to,” he says, more calmly than he feels. His protective instincts are overriding his freakout, making his mind surprisingly clear. She leans back in order to see him, her face red, splotchy, and wet.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Dunno,” he says, shrugging. “Doc says we can still go through with the test, right? Then we go through with it, like we planned, and see what it says.”

 

“What if only one is sick? I could never get rid of one and keep the other, but that would mean terminating a completely healthy—a completely healthy  _ it _ .”

 

“And not testing would mean gettin’ rid of them both, anyways, right?” Daryl asks pragmatically. Carol’s lower lip trembles but she nods.

 

“Yeah. I can’t keep them without knowing.”

 

“Then we go with the plan.”

 

“But what if they’re both okay? Daryl, we never planned on having  _ one _ , how are we supposed to handle  _ two _ ?”

 

Daryl chews on his lower lip.

 

“One day at a time,” he says. “We’d just hafta handle it one day at a time.”

 

“That’s insane,” Carol says, voice muffled as she covers her face with her hands.

 

“What hasn’t been, sweetheart? Look, here are the cards, now we gotta play ‘em. We’ll figure it out.”

 

“Why are you so calm?”

 

“‘Cause we can’t both lose our shit at the same time. I’ll save my panic attack for later.”

 

Carol snorts.

 

“You really would want two? I mean, honestly, you’d be okay with it?”

 

“Not my first choice, sure, but what I said before? None of that’s changed.”

 

“Guess we went too hard on the painting, huh? Accidentally made two Mona Lisas.”

 

“I’d say it doubles the worth, not lessens it.” He kisses her and adds, “Shoulda listened to you. You warned me that God’s got jokes.”

 

“That, or maybe we’re just way too efficient at procreating. I’m kinda mad I don’t remember that night. It better have been some fucking  _ amazing _ sex.” 

 

“Let’s just assume it was; save us the grief.”

 

“ _ Twins _ , Daryl.”

 

“Yeah.” 

 

“Are we really gonna be able to get through this?”

 

Daryl sincerely hopes his doubt doesn’t leak through when he assures her, “Of course.”

 

—-

 

(5:30p) -glenn if ur so gud @ math tell me if theres a 75% chance 1 nyew is healthy wut wud b the odds that 2 wud b?-

 

(5:37p) ~that both are healthy? 62.5% i think.~

 

(5:38p) ~wait.~

 

(5:38p) ~why?~

 

(5:38p) >Ummmm, Daryl?<

 

(5:40p) - :/ -

 

(5:41p) ~dude no way.~

 

(5:42p) - :/// -

 

(5:43p) >Daryl, are you joking?<

 

(5:44p) -i fukin wish but no-

 

(5:44p) -carol had her appt 2day-

 

(5:44p) -twins-

 

(5:45p) ~you’ve /got/ to be kidding, man.~

 

(5:45p) >Are they absolutely sure?<

 

(5:47p) -i saw them-

 

(5:48p) >What do you mean?<

 

(5:49p) -on the ultrasound carol wudnt look but i did n i saw them-

 

(5:49p) -heard the 2 diff heartbeats-

 

(5:50p) ~holy shit. are you doing okay?~

 

(5:51p) -lol no-

 

(5:51p) -i was able 2 fake it 4 carol n thn distracted myself w/ work but now im home by myself n i am just-

 

(5:52p) -idefk-

 

(5:52p) -idk wut 2 do-

 

(5:53p) >I don't blame you, brother, this gets more complicated every day. Are you still able to go through with the tests? Like can you do them on twins?<

 

(5:54p) -yeah u can n we r-

 

(5:55p) ~what happens if only one of them has it?~

 

(5:56p) -carol said she cudnt have 1 w/out the other which i get n support-

 

(5:57p) >And if neither is sick are you still going through with keeping them, then? Even though it's two?<

 

(5:58p) -yeah i think thts where we're @ rn-

 

(6:00p) ~is that what's freaking you out the most? the idea of having two?~

 

(6:01p) -i mean yeah im worried but thts not the main thing-

 

(6:02p) >What's the main thing?<

 

(6:05p) -i shudnt have looked-

 

(6:06p) ~?~

 

(6:07p) -@ the ultrasound i shud have done wut carol did n not looked bc now im all kinds of fuked up-

 

(6:09p) >Because it made you more attached, or what?<

 

(6:11p) -bc it made it real like theres legit these 2 things growing inside carol rn tht we made on fukin accident in ur gd bathroom rick n i kinda wish we cud just keep em w/out worrying abt all this bullshit-

 

(6:12p) -n like i get it rite? i get y we cant bc if 1 or both r sick then theyd all die this awful death not 2 mention theres a gud chance id outlive all 3 of em n spend a gud chunk of my life watchin my girl n my kids slowly die like i kno y its a bad idea n y she cant go thru w/ it-

 

(6:12p) -but also-

 

(6:12p) -idk-

 

(6:13p) -theyre my kids man-

 

(6:15p) >Have you told Carol this?<

 

(6:16p) -no n i aint gna bc it aint fair-

 

(6:16p) -i kno she wants em 2 so im not abt 2 make her feel even worse if she goes thru w/ the abortion im not doin tht 2 her-

 

(6:17p) -as bad as it is 4 me its worse 4 her bc shes actually seen this shit she lived w/ her mom bein sick most of her life i kno y she cud nvr do tht 2 her kids-

 

(6:17p) -fuk n theres the whole other prob tht if 1 of em is sick then we kno 4 sure tht carol is 2 n she'll need me 2 have my shit 2gether if shes gna get thru tht-

 

(6:19p) ~that’s all well and good, daryl, but who's supporting you if you're putting all your time into helping her?~

 

(6:20p) >Right. It's honorable that you're gonna be there for her, but when do /you/ get to not be okay for a while?<

 

(6:23p) -idk i can deal w/ my stuff by myself-

 

(6:24p) ~i think you're missing the point.~

 

(6:25p) >The point is that you shouldn't have to.<

 

(6:27p) -yall sound like carols doc tryna get us 2 go 2 therapy n shit-

 

(6:30p) ~i mean…~

 

(6:30p) >Might not be the worst idea tbh.<

 

(6:31p) -pfft no-

 

(6:33p) >Look, you don't have to go. But you've also been through some like, really serious shit in your life and maybe it wouldn't hurt to talk to someone about it. Especially if you don't want to unload on Carol.<

 

(6:35p) -my shit sucked but it werent the end of the world or nthn i lived-

 

(6:36p) ~i dunno if you realize how bad your stuff really is from like, an objective point of view. you once told us your dad broke your arm so bad you still have pains from it and he wouldn't take you to the hospital. that definitely counts as trauma, daryl, and trauma sticks with you.~

 

(6:38p) -tf wud either of u kno abt trauma? i didnt grow up in sum fancy house w/ family photos on the wall n a fireplace n a pretty living rm 4 family game nite or w/e so ofc tht makes me a basket case tht needs a therapist?-

 

(6:39p) ~we’re not trying to make you mad, daryl, we're just trying to help.~

 

(6:41p) >And think of it this way, if the twins do end up being healthy don't you want to be able to parent them the best that you can?<

 

(6:42p) -oh rite bc im so fuked up tht if i dnt go cryin abt my personal shit 2 sum stranger im gna b a shit dad?-

 

(6:43p) >No that's not what I meant at all.<

 

(6:44p) -no ur rite im sure if i dnt c a therapist i'll beat the shit outta my kids just like my daddy did 2 me bc i wont kno any better unless i pay someone 2 tell me different-

 

(6:45p) ~daryl, rein it in, we're sorry we hit a sore spot, we don't have to talk about it anymore.~

 

(6:46p) -yeah ur rite we dnt-

 

(6:46p) - _ you removed yourself from the chat _ -

 

—-

 

Daryl is sitting on the front step outside, glaring at the trashcan at the curb when Carol pulls up. She parks her shitty car, gets out, and comes and lowers herself down beside Daryl without a word.

 

“Gonna tell me why we're angrily staring at the trashcan?” she asks after a while.

 

“I want a cigarette but I can't go dig them out 'cause the can's full of dog shit and trash gets collected in the morning and then they'll be gone,” Daryl mumbles bitterly.

 

“Mm,” Carol muses, taking his hand. “I know the feeling.” He tears his eyes from the offending trashcan and looks her over.

 

“How you doin’?” he asks. She shrugs.

 

“Sad. Scared. Nauseous. All the usual stuff, but now it's times two,” she says nonchalantly. “You?”

 

“Dunno. Pretty shitty.”

 

“Yeah? You worrying?”

 

“Pfft, baby, I haven't stopped worrying since you pissed on that first stick, that ain't new.” He chews on a cuticle and sighs. “Had a fight with Glenn and Rick.”

 

“Really?” Carol asks, furrowing her brow. “What about?”

 

Daryl taps his foot on the concrete step underneath it. “Stuff,” he says evasively.

 

“Oh, that clears it up. Didn't think it'd be about stuff.” Daryl shoots her a glare and elbows her playfully.

 

“Was talkin’ to 'em about what happened and somehow therapy came up, like how the doc said she thought we should go, and the two of 'em were sayin’ that maybe I should 'cause I'm a fucked up piece of shit.”

 

“Mm, I'm guessing that's exactly how they phrased it, too,” Carol says. Daryl rolls his eyes.

 

“Whatever,” he mutters. He frowns down at his lap, debating if he wants to say what's really on his mind.

 

“What is it?” Carol asks, always one step ahead of him.

 

“Just...do you think 'cause of everything that's happened to me that I'd be a bad dad?”

 

“No,” Carol says, sounding genuine. “Do you think you would be?”

 

Daryl picks at some dirt under his nail.

 

“Dunno. Ain’t like I got a lotta role models in my life. What if they both end up healthy and we have 'em and then I suddenly realize I ain't got the first clue as to how not to completely fuck a kid up, only it'll be two and not just one so it'll be even worse?”

 

“We've both been through a lot of pretty terrible bullshit. I think it's impossible for us to erase that completely. Our pasts are gonna color everything we do at least a little bit—that’s just how life works.”

 

“So what's that mean for this, then? It ain't like I'm tryna be anything like my daddy, but if it's like what you say then what if I can't help it?”

 

“I said our pasts influence us, I didn't say define us. You can be whatever type of father—whatever type of man—you want to be; it's just that you'll have to shape that person around the child you were  _ forced _ to be.”

 

“Yeah, maybe,” Daryl mutters. 

 

“You know who could help with all of these feelings you're having?” Carol asks, nudging him gently.

 

“Hm?”

 

“A therapist.”

 

Daryl shoots her a look.

 

“Don't you start now.”

 

“I mean it. Maybe it would help.”

 

“I don't want no one diggin’ through my brain expectin’ me to unload everything on them like I'm s'posed to just trust 'em 'cause they got a degree.”

 

“I don't think that's how it works. I think you build trust first and then you unload.”

 

“So you think I'm fucked up, too? Can't fix my problems on my own?” Daryl snaps.

 

“You can cut that shit right now, you know that's not what I mean,” she says calmly but firmly. They stare each other down, until Daryl relents with a sigh.

 

“Yeah I know.”

 

“You know that's not what Glenn and Rick meant, too.”

 

“Mm.”

 

“I get why it's a sore spot, baby,” she says then, resting her head on his shoulder. “It is for me, too. But with all the shit in our past, and all the craziness right now, I dunno. Maybe we should try it. Both of us.”

 

Daryl stares out into the yard where the sky has grown dark and overcast. The nights are getting warmer. He thinks about everything that's led him here, on the front step at his own place, his pregnant girlfriend leaning against him, and realizes he knows the events of his life, but has never thought to tie them together and consider the consequences of them. 

 

“I wanna be good for you,” he admits quietly. “And good for them. I mean if we get to keep 'em, I wanna be good.”

 

“I do, too,” she says. “Would you be willing try it? For me and them? And I'll do the same?”

 

Daryl still hates the idea down to his core, but how can he say no to a question like that?

 

“I'll try for you,” he says. “And them.”

 

—-

 

_ February 22nd _

_ Tuesday _

 

The waiting room is small, with a stack of old  _ People _ magazines on a rectangular table, and a television screen up in the corner that's cycling through pictures of nature while playing ambient music. Daryl's sitting in a chair made of cheap wood with a hard cushion, up against the wall as far from the other people as possible. 

 

There's a heavyset man leafing through one of the ancient magazines, and a young woman with fishnet gloves and a septum piercing scrolling through her phone. And then there's the soccer mom-looking woman trying to get her toddler to stop pulling tissues out of a tissue box and tearing them to shreds.

 

The woman moves the box out of reach and starts cleaning up the floor, and while she's distracted, the toddler takes hold of a crayon some other kid left behind and waddles on his chubby little legs over to where Daryl is trying to make himself unseen.

 

He and the toddler stare at one another, the toddler chewing absently on the crayon. Then, out of nowhere, the toddler takes the crayon out of his mouth and holds it out to Daryl, who hesitates. He doesn't particularly want it, but it seems rude to refuse. He offers his open hand to the toddler who drops the slobbery crayon onto his palm with a laugh. Daryl gives him a tight smile and is now not sure what to do other than sit there and hold a moist, red crayon.

 

The toddler seems to have an agenda, however. He grabs hold of the clipboard on Daryl's lap, the one with papers that he's supposed to be filling out that have obnoxious questions on them—( _ In the last two weeks how often have you felt downhearted or blue? Circle one: None of the time; some of the time; most of the time; almost always.) _ —and tugs it out of his hands. He then takes the crayon back. Daryl, mildly fascinated at how pointless this all seems, let's him.

 

The toddler starts drawing on Daryl's forms, making big, red scribbles all over the paper. The toddler points at his drawing and looks at Daryl expectantly. Daryl's not sure what he's supposed to say.  _ Yep, that's certainly a lopsided circle you drew there. _

 

“Good job?” Daryl offers and the toddler beams at him.

 

“Oh my gosh, I am  _ so _ sorry,” says the soccer mom, rushing over and snatching the toddler up. “He's at that age where I can't get him to stay in one place. Do you want me to go get you a new form?”

 

“It's fine,” Daryl mumbles. The woman gives an apologetic smile and walks away, telling the toddler off. Looking over her shoulder, the toddler waves a fat little hand at Daryl. After a beat, Daryl waves back.

 

The woman and her son are called for their appointment, and Daryl shakes himself and finishes up his paperwork. He takes it back to the front desk. The receptionist furrows her brow at the red crayon all over it, but Daryl doesn't offer an explanation. He goes back to his seat and broods, not wanting to do this at all.

 

(12:56p) -i dnt wnt 2 b here-

 

(12:57p) *Proud of you, though! Want me to go down on you or something later as a reward?*

 

(12:58p) -carol ud throw up-

 

(12:58p) -lets save sex 4 whn u can go more thn 3 hrs w/out barfing-

 

(12:59p) *I can't think of a witty response bc you're right. All I've eaten today is three saltine crackers and like fifteen peppermints. I'll just give you a really sexy high five.*

 

(1:00p) -i'll take it ig-

 

“Daryl?” 

 

Daryl looks up from his phone and sees a woman with bobbed black hair and glasses smiling at him. He stands up and stuffs his hands in his pockets so he can avoid a handshake.

 

“Yeah,” he mutters.

 

“I'm Doctor Nancy Peterson. Nice to meet you. Come down this way and we'll go to my office.”

 

Daryl lets Dr. Peterson lead him down a long, carpeted hallway, past several doorways. In one he can hear his crayon friend causing havoc. 

 

Finally, they get to the room at the end of the hall and Dr. Peterson gestures for him to enter. The room is painted a light blue, with a couple abstract paintings on the walls. There's a bookshelf full of books with words like “psychology” and “trauma” in the titles. She's got a giant blue one on her desk called  _ DSM 5 _ that she has flagged with about a million colorful sticky notes. She has the overhead lights off, and the room is lit by a dim lamp. Daryl hates all of it.

 

“Have a seat,” Dr. Peterson say, indicating to a big, black armchair. After a moment's hesitation, Daryl sits on the chair and immediately sinks into the deep cushion and it makes him feel small. He adjusts himself until he's propped at the edge of the chair. He crosses his arms, fixes his gaze to the floor, and waits as she takes a seat in a normal desk chair across from him.

 

“So, Daryl,” Dr. Peterson starts with a smile in her voice, a clipboard and paper sat on her lap. “What brings you in today?”

 

It's been 45 seconds and he's already at a loss.

 

“Uh. I dunno. Therapy, I guess?”

 

To her credit, Dr. Peterson's doesn't burst out laughing at him. 

 

“Why are you pursuing therapy?” she asks.

 

Fuck it, he's supposed to be honest, right?

 

“My girlfriend asked me to.”

 

“Alright. Do you know why?”

 

“'Cause she thinks therapy would be good for us I guess.”

 

“She's doing therapy, too?”

 

“Yeah. She's got an appointment here with someone Friday.”

 

“Has something been going on in your relationship that made her want you both to start doing therapy?”

 

“Not really. Well, I mean, she's pregnant with twins that might have a genetic disease and so she might have to get an abortion even though we wanna keep them, but other than that everything's been fine. We treat each other good and stuff. We love each other or whatever, so there's not really any problems there.”

 

“Mmmkay, let's back up a second. You said she's pregnant?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Was it planned?”

 

“Pfft, I'm 18, what do you think?”

 

“So an unexpected pregnancy, and twins? And tell me more about this genetic disease.”

 

“Whaddya want me to say? They might have a genetic disease. Depends on if my girlfriend's got it, too, but we don't know. We're getting tests done next week. Do we gotta talk about this? I don't like talkin’ about her business when she ain't here.”

 

“It's just that it sounds like there may be some stressors stemming from this whole situation.”

 

“I guess but what can you do? I don't wanna talk about it.”

 

“Okay, we don't have to. Why don't you give me some background information about yourself. What's your family like?”

 

“Shitty.”

 

“Care to elaborate?”

 

“No. I don't wanna talk about them, neither.”

 

“Okay,” Dr. Peterson says cheerfully. “What  _ would _ you like to talk about?”

 

Frankly, Daryl would be perfectly fine with spending the next fifty minutes sitting in silence and then going home and telling Carol, “Welp, I tried.”

 

“The weather,” Daryl says sarcastically, still staring at the floor.

 

“Okay. Let's talk about the weather,” says Dr. Peterson brightly. Daryl looks up at her despite himself and frowns.

 

“What?” he asks.

 

“You said you want to talk about the weather, so let's talk about the weather. It's finally warming up; starting to feel like spring might be coming.”

 

Daryl blinks at her. Whatever, if she wants to waste both their time he can talk about the weather.

 

“Yeah, I'm glad.”

 

“You like spring?”

 

“Spring, summer, fall—anything but winter.”

 

“What's wrong with winter?”

 

“Don't like bein’ cold.”

 

“Georgia doesn't get that cold, at least. I went to school up north. That's some real cold for you.”

 

“Don't matter, cold is cold and I hate it.”

 

“How come? You an outdoorsy type?”

 

“I guess. I mean I prefer it outside. Campin’ and huntin’ and shit.”

 

“I can see how cold could make that difficult. I got locked out of my house once during a snowstorm. I was out there for seven hours and thought I was gonna freeze to death. I can't imagine camping in that.”

 

“Pfft, seven hours ain't nothin’. Try two days.”

 

“You were stuck in the snow for two days?”

 

“Mhm, and lemme tell you, Georgia gets plenty cold at nighttime.”

 

“How'd you get stuck out in the cold.”

 

“Got lost when I was huntin’ with my dad like, eight or nine years ago.”

 

“So you both were just wandering around the woods?”

 

“Ha, no, I was by myself. Got separated from him and then it took me two days to find home.”

 

“How’d you manage to do that? I’m not sure I’d be able to make it out in the woods and I’m a grown adult. You must have some pretty impressive survivalist skills if you managed that at such a young age.”

 

“I dunno, it was just basic stuff that kept me alive, nothin’ that impressive.”

 

“What all did you have to do?”

 

“Dunno, at first I was a dumbass ‘cause I started goin’ all over the place tryna find my way, which is a good way to get even more lost. I tried tracking my footsteps, but snow was fallin’ too hard, it was covering everything up, so I had to go by direction alone, but I weren’t that good at my north and south back then. Eventually it started gettin’ late in the day and I figured I’d have to call it quits or for the night or else I was gonna get stuck all exposed in the cold and then I’d’ve been in real trouble.”

 

“Did you find shelter?”

 

“Mhm. I found this dense little area of trees where the snow wasn’t gettin’ through as much, and one of the trees had a hollowed out trunk. I made a fire with the dryest brush I could find, and then huddled up and slept in the tree trunk.”

 

“What’d you do for food? For water?”

 

“Oh man, I was dumb as fuck about water at first. Tried just eating snow, but all that did was burn my mouth. Finally figured out how to hold it in my hands and melt it over the fire and drink it like that. ‘Course then my gloves got all wet and I had to try and dry ‘em out so my fingers wouldn’t freeze off.

 

“And for food, I had like, a granola bar or somethin’ in my pocket, so that’s what I ate that first night, and the second day there was a couple mice in the tree that I caught and cooked up. Didn’t taste great.”

 

“How’d you find your way home?”

 

“By finally using my damn brain. You’re not s’posed to move much when you’re lost in the woods, but it was gettin’ too cold and I was runnin’ outta stuff to burn, plus my clothes were soaked. Knew I lived west of the creek, so I used the sun to tell me which way I was goin’. Finally found some landmarks I knew and walked the rest of the way home like it was nothin’. I wasn’t even that far off the mark, it was real dumb.”

 

“Were you hurt?”

 

“Little bit of frostbite on my hand, but other than that, nah.”

 

“That’s crazy. Your dad must have been worried sick.”

 

“Pfft, fat chance. He didn't bother to look for me. Told me it was my own damn fault for not followin’ the trails and trackin’ like a dumbass.”

 

“He didn't try to find you at all?”

 

“Nah, he knew I'd figure it out eventually. He was right, anyways, it was my fault for not usin’ my head. If I'd paid any attention at all I woulda gotten home in a second. Even with all the snow I shoulda been able to track my steps back if I’d been thinkin’ instead of panicking”

 

“So you got lost because you screwed up?”

 

“I mean, yeah, obviously, but it taught me how to survive out there at least. Real efficient way to learn; gettin’ thrown to the wolves. Still hate the cold, though.”

 

“I imagine that's how you'd teach your kids to navigate, too, then?”

 

“What? No, 'course not.”

 

“I thought you just said it's an efficient way to learn?”

 

“Well yeah, but I'm not gonna leave my kids out in the middle of the woods by themselves to teach them a lesson.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“‘Cause they could get hurt.”

 

“You didn't.”

 

“Sure, but I was tough.”

 

“Your kids wouldn't be tough?”

 

“I mean...no, they'd be plenty tough.”

 

“So why not leave them in the woods? Throw them to the wolves, like you said?  If it taught you why couldn't it teach them?”

 

“'Cause.”

 

“Because why? I don't get it.”

 

“'Cause that's a shitty thing to do to a kid. They'd be alone and scared.”

 

“What if they ended up out there themselves?”

 

“Then I'd go find them.”

 

“But it's their fault they're out there.”

 

“No it ain't, they're  _ kids _ . Kids fuck up, it happens.”

 

“So what you're saying is that kids sometimes make mistakes, but you shouldn't punish them by putting them in life or death situations?”

 

“Yeah, that seems pretty obvious.”

 

“Yeah,” Dr. Peterson agrees. “It does.” She glances at the clock. “Well that wraps up our time today. Same time next week?”

 

Daryl blinks.

 

“My girlfriend's tests are then,” he says, feeling like he's missing the punchline to a joke. “Make it two weeks.”

 

“Two weeks it is.” Dr. Peterson gives him a big smile. “See you then.”

 

—-

 

(1:37p) - _ you joined the chat- _

 

(1:37p) -hi-

 

(1:40p) >Hi.<

 

(1:41p) ~hi darling.-

 

(1:41p) ~nope! meant to say daryl! hi daryl!~

 

(1:43p) -lmao hello 2 u 2 darling-

 

(1:44p) -am i allowed 2 come back?-

 

(1:45p) >You never weren't allowed.<

 

(1:45p) ~you left us, not the other way around.~

 

(1:49p) -ik but i wasnt sure if u were gna b mad @ me-

 

(1:52p) >We're not mad, just worried.<

 

(1:53p) ~and sorry.~

 

(1:53p) >Yeah, definitely sorry. We shouldn't have pushed you like that.<

 

(1:57p) -nah dnt b sorry-

 

(1:57p) -u were rite i just didnt wna hear it-

 

(1:58p) -i went 2 therapy 2day-

 

(2:01p) ~....we already know.~

 

(2:02p) >Don’t get pissed, but we’ve been checking in with Carol to make sure you’re okay.<

 

(2:03p) ~she didn’t tell us much or anything, she just kept telling us to give you time and that you were dealing with a lot. she said you were gonna try out therapy and see if it’s for you, but that’s all she said about it.~

 

(2:05p) -lmao-

 

(2:05p) -all 3 of u r fukin rotten-

 

(2:05p) -w/e thnx 4 worrying abt me ig-

 

(2:08p) >Of course, brother.<

 

(2:08p) ~it’s not team groupchat without you.~

 

(2:09p) ~plus, you know, we missed talking to you.~

 

(2:14p) -yeah me2-

 

(2:16p) >Are we allowed to ask how therapy went?<

 

(2:20p) -it was weird?-

 

(2:20p) -idk wut the point was of nythng we tlked abt-

 

(2:23p) ~how do you mean?~

 

(2:28p) -we tlked abt the weather n how i dnt like the cold-

 

(2:32p) >That’s it?<

 

(2:34p) -yeah n i told her abt how i got stranded in a snowstorm once whn i was a kid for 2 days-

 

(2:34p) -she kept askin all these questions abt how i managed 2 not die n i was thinkin like does she wnt me 2 teach her survivalist shit or wut?-

 

(2:35p) -thn she went on n was like mb u shud teach ur kids by leavin them in the woods like ur dad did 2 u like wtf y wud i do tht thtd b so fuked up-

 

(2:38p) >Wait, your dad left you stranded in the woods?<

 

(2:41p) -i mean yeah but it was bc i was dumb n got lost n he knew i had 2 figure it out on my own-

 

(2:43p) ~go back and reread everything you just said to us but with your brain this time.~

 

(2:47p) -wtf r u on abt? i said itd be an asshole thing 2 do 2 leave my kids in the woods n thn u asked if my dad oh shit wait-

 

(2:47p) -tht was the point wasnt it?-

 

(2:48p) -tht piece of shit dr made me say tht it wudnt b my kids fault if they got lost bc she was tryna get me 2 say it wasnt my fault that i got lost- 

 

(2:48p) -wtf we were just tlkin abt the weather-

 

(2:48p) -she tricked me-

 

(2:51p) ~i’m sorry for laughing, but that is really funny.~

 

(2:52p) -stfu no its not-

 

(2:55p) ~mr. “i already know everything a therapist would tell me” got told something he didn’t expect by a therapist. that’s definitely funny.~

 

(2:59p) >He’s kind of right.<

 

(3:04p) - :/ -

 

(3:04p) -man fuk therapy-

 

(3:06p) ~yeah. you goin’ back though?~

 

(3:09p) -...-

 

(3:09p) -ig-

 

(3:10p) ~atta boy.~

 

(3:11p) >Welcome back, Daryl.<

 

—-

 

_ March 1st _

_ Tuesday _

 

“I’m gettin’ real tired of doctors shoving and poking things into my body,” Carol tells Daryl. She’s laying on yet another examination table, wearing a flimsy hospital gown, her hands folded on her abdomen. Usually she’s got baggy clothes on, but through the thin, cheap fabric of the gown, Daryl can clearly see the definitive bump of her belly, and he tries not to think about how this time next week they might be scheduling an appointment to get rid of it. 

 

“He said it’s real quick, though,” Daryl assures her. “And you don’t have to go under or nothin’.”

 

“I don’t like this place, I don’t like his office, it feels too much like a hospital.”

 

“It ain’t, though,” he says, pushing her hair back off her forehead. She sighs and frowns. “You nervous?” he asks.

 

“Yeah,” she says. 

 

“About which part?”

 

“All the parts. The procedure, the tests, the results—all of it. Wish they could just pump me full of Xanax or something. That’s probably on the mile-long ‘No Fun Allowed’ list that they gave us at Planned Parenthood, though. ‘No fun drugs for pregnant women.’”

 

“Pro’ly. I haven’t given you shit about your coffee, though, have I?”

 

“You say it with your eyes. I’ve cut back though, and that’s what the doctor said, she said ‘cut back.’”

 

“Throwin’ it up doesn’t count as cuttin’ back.”

 

“I’m about to have a needle poked through my stomach and into my uterus, Daryl, let me have this argument.”

 

“Fair enough.” 

 

The door to the room opens and the doctor walks in. Daryl feels like he’s been up to his knees in doctors lately. This one is a kind-looking man with a trim beard. He met with the two of them when they arrived and went over the details of the procedure, none of which Daryl liked the sound of, but he seemed to know what he was doing, and was understanding of Carol’s reasons behind it, and Daryl supposes that’s what matters most.

 

“Ready to rock and roll, Carol?” the doctor asks. He loses a few points in his favor for using that expression.

 

“Let’s hit it, doc,” Carol says in a voice that only Daryl would recognize as being facetious. 

 

“Daryl, if you go to the waiting room I’ll come and get you as soon as we’re done, alright? This is over in a jiffy, I promise, and then the three of us can have a quick gab-sesh about where we go from here. Sound good?”

 

It would sound better if he used slang from this decade, but he nods anyway. Carol looks up at him with a pout.

 

“I’ll be back in just a couple minutes, sweetheart, you’re gonna be fine,” he says quietly, wishing the doctor wasn’t there to overhear. He leans down and gives her a quick kiss and cups her cheek briefly before showing himself out the door.

 

More waiting rooms. 

 

He’s sick of waiting rooms, too. Although, he thinks, if the results of the test are good, he’s gonna be spending a lot more time in waiting rooms and with doctors. That’s something he hasn’t let himself think about too much—what it might be like for Carol to carry out her whole pregnancy. She’d have to have checkups, and they’d have to learn even more about how to keep her healthy. She would get big—not just the little bump she has now, but truly, properly big. They’d have to tell people. They’d have to tell their families, or at least some of them.

 

He can only panic about one thing at a time, though, so for now he’s going to focus on what the tests are going to say, and less about what comes after. 

 

(Yeah right, as if his brain isn’t overthinking everything 24/7.)

 

The next few minutes pass by like hours, and judging by the relief he feels when the doctor comes and fetches him, you would have thought Carol just made it through brain surgery. He takes Daryl to the room where Carol has already changed back into her clothes.

 

“You good?” Daryl asks her before he’s even all the way over the threshold. She gives him a small smile and nods.

 

“Wasn’t too bad,” she says. “Promise. More uncomfortable than anything.” 

 

Daryl looks her up and down, as if making sure the they didn’t take a limb or something. As satisfied as he’s going to be, he goes to stand by her and watches the doctor expectantly.

 

“So here’s the dealio,” says the doctor. Daryl groans internally. “As I already told Carol, there shouldn’t be any serious side effects to the procedure. You might be a little crampy, and might want to take it easy, but you should be good to go. Now in terms of getting results back, we should have them for you by Monday. You said you wanted them by phone?”

 

“Not worth the gas to drive to and from Savannah if we can just hear it in the comfort of our own home,” Carol says. The tone her voice has taken on sounds like one that’s anticipating bad news. He supposes that’s on brand for Carol; expect the worst, and be pleasantly surprised if she’s wrong. 

 

Is he expecting the worst? 

 

He doesn’t know, but he feels like he has to expect the best just as a balance, so he decides that’s what he’ll do. Or, at the very least, he’s gonna fake it.

 

Back in the car after they’re cleared to leave, Daryl asks Carol, “You sure you’re good?”

 

“I am,” she says. “Honestly, I’m just relieved that part is over. It was weighing on me so much, but now it’s like it’s out of my hands. There’s nothing you or I can do except wait and see.”

 

“I get that,” Daryl says, “Gonna talk to Dale when we get back home. I’m gonna try and take Monday off so we can be together when we get the call. And I ain’t gonna give any details, but I think I gotta let him know there’s some stuff goin’ on at home. I just don’t want him to think we I’m skippin’ out on work. ‘Specially not now, seein’ as we might really need the money here soon.”

 

“We’re definitely going to be drowning in medical bills if insurance rejects our claim.”

 

“Wasn’t talkin’ about medical bills,” Daryl says softy, and Carol bites her lip.

 

“I know,” she says after a beat. “You still want to stop by Glenn’s before we go home?” she asks. He lets her have her deflection.

 

“If you’re feelin’ up to it. Don’t gotta stay long.”

 

“I’m fine. I’d like to see him, and I know you need it.”

 

“Thanks. I made it fun for you, though, I told him you get nauseous when you look at the color green, and that he’s gotta pull out chairs for you every time you try and sit down.”

 

“Oh my God, isn’t his whole bed set green?”

 

“Yes it is. He told me he’s stripped it completely and hid it all in the closet.”

 

“I love you,” Carol says through her giggles. Daryl grins at her.

 

“You, too, baby,” he says.

 

—-

 

_ March 7th _

_ Monday _

 

Daryl and Carol are curled up on the couch together, pretending like they’re watching the Lifetime movie that’s playing on their television, when in actuality they’re waiting for Carol’s phone to ring. At one point Daryl’s own cell vibrates, and when they realize it’s just Rick sending a meme to the groupchat, Daryl swears and shuts his phone off entirely.

 

“This is torture, they’re torturing me,” Carol says once four o’clock rolls around. “What if they don’t call today? We both have to work tomorrow, and if it’s bad news then I’m gonna have to get it all by myself and then how will I tell you? Do I text you? Call you? Wait until I get home? It’s too complicated, I can’t do it.”

 

“Carol, sweetheart, shhh,” Daryl says, rubbing her back. “We still got a whole other hour before the doctor’s office closes, and if they don’t call today then we’ll figure tomorrow out, alright?”

 

She doesn’t seem convinced, but she lets Daryl gather her in his arms anyway. Daryl watches her check to make sure she didn’t miss any calls about nine times before he gently takes the phone from her and holds it in his hand.

 

“What if it’s on silent and I didn’t realize it?” she asks.

 

“You pro’ly would’ve noticed the first hundred times you checked to see if it was.” 

 

Carol opens her mouth to make a rebuttal, but just then her phone starts to buzz. They both startle. Daryl looks at the screen and the caller ID shows the doctor’s number. He holds it out to Carol, whose eyes go wide as she shakes her head vehemently.

 

“I can’t,” she says. “You do it, you answer. Put it on speaker or something, I don’t know, I just can’t.” 

 

Answering phone calls from anyone who isn’t Carol is among the many social things Daryl hates doing, but it’s not like he’s about to refuse. Swallowing, he accepts the call and says an awkward, “Hello?” into the receiver.

 

“Howdy,” comes the doctor’s frankly ridiculous greeting. “I’m looking for Carol Miller?”

 

“Hold on,” Daryl mumbles. He fumbles with her phone until he manages to put it on speaker. “‘Kay, she’s here too.”

 

“I am,” Carol verifies, cracking her knuckles. 

 

“Howdy, Carol, good to hear your voice again.” Carol looks at Daryl and mouths ‘howdy?’, to which Daryl just rolls his eyes and shrugs. “I’ve got some test results here, if you’re ready to hear them,” he says.

 

“We are,” Carol says, grimacing likes she’s bracing herself.

 

The two of them wait with bated breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if my math is wrong on that percentage don't yell at me, i asked my friend who actually understands math to do it for me. 
> 
> anyway, cliffhanger! see you sunday!
> 
> -diz


	6. The Universe Owes Us Two

_ March 7th _

_ Monday _

 

What Daryl remembers most about the first time his father hit him—not some spank on the butt when he misbehaved, but the first time he sent an honest-to-god smack across his face with an open-palmed hand—isn’t the pain. He remembers the way his daddy, red faced and spitting, yelled at the little boy that was him that he was worthless. He remembers trembling in fear as the person who was supposed to protect him caused him harm. He remembers that the first time his father hit him was the first time he felt unloved.

 

And he continued to feel unloved for years.

 

His mother, who claimed to love him, loved her wine and her cigarettes more, so much so that she abandoned him in a cloud of black smoke and orange flame. 

 

His brother, who claimed to love him, left him alone in a house of abuse the second he could, and only pops up occasionally when the mood strikes him and the law isn’t after him.

 

In a way, his father was the most honest person in his life growing up, because at least he never claimed to love him; he was open about his hate.

 

But sitting on the couch, holding a phone while holding his breath, Daryl realizes that Carol’s the first person who has claimed to love him that he actually believes. And it strikes him like a lightning bolt, the reason why, against his better judgement, he wants these two wonderfully terrifying things growing inside her so badly. They are, after all, evidence of their love; proof that he didn't imagine it.

 

Don’t make me lose that, Daryl thinks in the seconds between the doctor’s inhale and the words on his exhale. 

 

“I’ve just gone over the results,” says the doctor. “And there is no sign of the defective gene in either twin. As far as your chromosomes are concerned, they’re both perfectly healthy.”

 

Carol bursts into tears immediately, her hands flying to her face and covering her mouth.

 

What? Daryl wonders dumbly in his head.

 

“What?” he asks dumbly aloud, because that answer seems so simple. 

 

_ They're both perfectly healthy. _ Is he sure he heard that right? It's in this moment he realizes that he actually had been expecting the worst, because now that he's being presented with the best it's not computing.

 

“Neither twin is at risk for Huntington's,” the doctor explains, mistaking Daryl's disbelief for misinterpretation. “Carol, of course we still don't know your status, but this is definitely in your favor.”

 

“Thank you,” Carol manages through her tears. Daryl is still blank, staring at the phone.

 

“Congratulations, you two. It's always a hoot to give good news. Feel free to call if you have any questions, and let me know if you want any obstetrician recommendations for your area. I know a few rad ones in your neck of the woods.”

 

Oh, that's what OB stands for, thinks Daryl mildly.

 

“We will,” says Carol, wiping her eyes.

 

“Take care. Toodle-loo!” 

 

The call ends.

 

Daryl looks up at Carol, who's staring back at him, awed. She clears the distance between them and wraps her arms around him tight, fresh tears falling and soaking into the fabric of his shirt.

 

“I've wanted them this whole time,” she whispers, speaking like she were in a confessional; as though she were admitting a sin. “Since the first day I wanted to go through with it, but I didn't want to think about how much because I thought it would make it hurt less when we couldn't.” She leans back and searches Daryl's face, shaking her head in disbelief. “Daryl, they're okay, they're both okay. Our babies are okay.”

 

Suddenly the numbness evaporates from him and he's hit by a wave of emotion all at once.

 

“Holy shit,” he says, blinking at her.

 

“I know.”

 

“Holy. Shit.”

 

“I know!” she laughs.

 

“We seriously get to keep ‘em?” Daryl asks and Carol nods vigorously. “What the hell happens next?”

 

“I've got no idea,” Carol says, sounding delighted. “I didn't think we'd get this far.”

 

“Me either,” Daryl admits.

 

“This is insane. You realize this means we're gonna have  _ two _ babies in a few months? We're gonna be parents.”

 

“We have no money,” Daryl says.

 

“None at all,” Carol agrees, still beaming.

 

“We ain't even twenty yet.”

 

“Nope, we're teenage delinquents.”

 

“This is a crazy idea.”

 

“The craziest, truth be told.”

 

Daryl starts laughing and pulls Carol back to him to kiss her thoroughly. He rests his forehead against hers.

 

“We doin’ this, then?” he asks quietly.

 

“Yeah,” she says. “I think we are.”

 

That's the line that seals the deal. It finally clicks for Daryl. Those tiny blobs on the sonogram that made him feel some type of way are  _ theirs _ , his and hers, and he's finally allowed to want them without inhibition.

 

“I’m so overwhelmed. I'm gonna throw up,” Carol says, still nuzzled against Daryl.

 

“Yeah, I'm feelin’ all messed up myself.”

 

“That's nice, but also I'm literally gonna throw up.”

 

“Oh.” Daryl pushes back away from her. “You okay?”

 

“Yep,” she says, getting to her feet, a hand over her mouth. He can see her grin behind it as she adds, “I'm just pregnant.”

 

Daryl watches her rush off to the bathroom. He leans back against the couch and shakes his head. 

 

The sound of Carol's applesauce and ginger ale lunch making a reappearance in the toilet bowl never sounded more beautiful.

 

—-

 

(5:17p) -dr called-

 

(5:19p) ~and?~

 

(5:19p) >What'd he say?<

 

(5:20p) -theyre healthy-

 

(5:20p) -both of them-

 

(5:20p) -theres nthn wrong w/ them u guys-

 

(5:21p) ~!!!!!!!~

 

(5:21p) >Oh thank god.<

 

(5:22p) ~i won't lie, i was worried.~

 

(5:24p) -i was abt 2 stroke out n i didnt even realize it until he said they were ok-

 

(5:25p) ~soooo...does that mean…?~

 

(5:26p) >Are we gonna be uncles?<

 

(5:27p) -yes-

 

(5:28p) ~!!!!!!!~

 

(5:28p) >Congratulations, brother, I'm super happy for you. I know you wanted this.<

 

(5:30p) -i did-

 

(5:30p) -i do-

 

(5:30p) -also mite b freaking out a lil bit-

 

(5:32p) ~k, but when are you not?~

 

(5:33p) >Be nice, Glenn. Freaking out about which part, Daryl?<

 

(5:34p) -mostly the part where i got my 19 yr old gf of less thn a yr pregnant w/ twins n am gna have them n raise them and like b a parent-

 

(5:36p) >But you want to be a parent, though, right?<

 

(5:37p) -yes-

 

(5:37p) -i am also terrified-

 

(5:38p) -i was so worried abt losing the bbs tht i 4got 2 obsess abt not knowing how 2 b a dad-

 

(5:39p) ~oooh, we're calling them babies now? exciting!~

 

(5:39p) ~gonna miss New Year's Eve Whoopsies though.~

 

(5:39p) ~maybe that's what you should name them. New Year's Eve Whoopsie 1 and 2.~

 

(5:40p) -stfu glenn-

 

(5:41p) >I'm obviously not an expert by any means, but I think it's safe to say that it's pretty common for new parents to freak out a little bit. It's kind of a huge change.<

 

(5:42p) ~you know what this calls for?~

 

(5:43p) -idk if i wna ask-

 

(5:45p) ~it calls for a fun round of “what does buzzfeed have to say about this?”~

 

(5:46p) -no dnt last time i was on buzzfeed was when u made me read tht 471 sex tips article-

 

(5:47p) ~okay, but did you use any of those sex tips? obviously none of the ones about using a condom, but the other ones?~

 

(5:48p) -get out of my life-

 

(5:49p) >Probably shouldn't tell him to leave. You're gonna need babysitters eventually and you guys don't know that many people.<

 

(5:50p) -akskdla bbsitters there r gna b bbs-

 

(5:50p) -2 of em-

 

(5:51p) -k fine glenn wut does buzzfeed say-

 

(5:53p) ~ _ dumbass sent a link _ ~

 

(5:53p) ~here’s an entertaining one about stupid reasons toddlers have had tantrums.~

 

(5:55p) >“My son threw a tantrum because I wouldn't let him play in the oven.”<

 

(5:57p) -we still got months 2 go b4 theyre even born lets wait on the toddler shit-

 

(5:59p) ~ _ dumbass sent a link _ ~

 

(5:59p) ~here’s a generic “what i wish someone would have told me before having a baby” listicle.~

 

(6:07p) -carol read this w/ me n asked y half of them r abt not being able 2 shower alone-

 

(6:08p) ~because kids are /constantly/ in your space.~

 

(6:09p) -how wud u kno?-

 

(6:10p) ~i have three older sisters, dude. between all their kids i have three nieces and a nephew. i've been taking care of babies for years.~

 

(6:11p) >Oh my god, that means Glenn is the most qualified out of all of us to give advice right now.<

 

(6:11p) >You're learning how to parent through Buzzfeed and Glenn.<

 

(6:11p) >You guys are screwed.<

 

(6:13p) - :/ -

 

(6:13p) -idk shit abt bbs-

 

(6:15p) ~i mean they're not that complicated. when they're little all they do is eat and shit, basically. and scream. they scream a lot. but usually it's because they want to eat or shit themselves.~

 

(6:15p) ~they’re kind of boring until they learn to do things.~

 

(6:17p) -idek kno how 2 change a diaper-

 

(6:20p) ~i promise you it’s not rocket science.~

 

(6:20p) ~next time i’m in town i’ll have you and carol come help me babysit my nephew and i’ll teach you things for when your three show up.~

 

(6:20p) ~autocorrect, i meant two.~

 

(6:22p) -alsjdflja thts ur worst autocorrect ever plz dnt say tht again i can barely handle the thot of 2-

 

(6:22p) -im rly rly hap tht theyre healthy but im also scared af istg-

 

(6:22p) -whn will tht go away?-

 

(6:24p) >Probably when they’re 18.<

 

(6:25p) ~probably not even then.~

 

(6:26p) >Welcome to parenthood, brother. You’re in for a wild ride.<

 

—-

 

After finishing getting ready for bed, Dary goes to their room and finds Carol already there. The room is lit solely by the lamp on the nightstand, and she’s propped up against the backboard, illuminated by the dim glow. She has her shirt pulled up and she’s examining her belly. Her bump is bigger than Daryl thought it was, and he realizes they haven’t really had sex in a while due to her sickness and their combined stress, and she’s made a conscious effort to hide herself under baggy clothes during the day, so in effect this is the first time he’s seeing it. He leans against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest, watching her.

 

“Hey,” she says when she notices him. He nods at her, smiling softly. “What?” she asks.

 

“Nothin’,” he says. “Just doesn’t feel totally real yet.”

 

“It doesn’t,” she agrees. She runs her hands over her bump, twisting her mouth. “You know, I was starting to hate my belly, ‘cause it was the biggest reminder of everything. Like, I’ve felt sick before, I’ve been tired before, but this? This is new. And it’s weird now to look at myself and not get sad when I see it.”

 

“When are we gonna start telling other people? You ain’t gonna be able to hide that much longer.”

 

“Tell me about it.” She frowns at her belly. “God, I’m gonna get so huge. People get gigantic with just one baby, what am I gonna look like with two?” She looks up at Daryl with her lower lip in a pout. “Will you still love me when I’m the size of Texas?”

 

Daryl huffs a laugh and goes and crawls into his side of the bed. Carol scoots down, flat on her back, her head towards him. He fluffs his pillow and settles in, before hooking one of his legs over hers.

 

“Can’t think of a damn thing that’d make me stop lovin’ you,” he tells her quietly. The corner of her mouth tugs up.

 

“What if I became a serial killer?”

 

“Feel like you’d have a good reason if you did.”

 

“So you’d literally let me get away with murder?”

 

“Dunno, we’ll see when it happens.”

 

She laughs a little, and then her smile fades.

 

“I’ll have to tell my dad eventually,” she says. Daryl chews on his lip and nods.

 

“I know.”

 

“He’s gonna be pissed as all get out,” she warns, as if Daryl was expecting anything different. 

 

“Know that, too. He’ll wanna throttle me, and for once I get it. I don’t think most fathers take too kindly to boys like me knocking up their teenage daughters.”

 

“Boys like you? What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“You know what it means.”

 

“I do, but I hate when you talk about yourself like that.”

 

“Just stating facts, darlin’,” Daryl says with a shrug. “I ain’t come from no riches. You know, or at least I hope you do, that I’d cut off my right arm if it made the difference between keepin’ you and our lil’ ones safe, but that don’t change reputation; that don’t make me the type of man your daddy’s always wanted for you.”

 

“I don’t give a damn about that,” Carol says with conviction, and Daryl gives her a gentle smile.

 

“Never thought you did. But bein’ with me? Havin’ my kids? That’s gonna paint you in a certain light in the eyes of people in this town. Have you considered that?”

 

“It doesn’t matter.”

 

“Maybe not, but have you? A Dixon’s your baby daddy. Once people know that it’ll be a stain you’ll never get rid of. You prepared for that?”

 

“You’re not a  _ stain _ , Daryl,” Carol says, taking his hand and squeezing it tight. “Let the people think what they wanna think. Let my dad throw his fit. I don’t care, I really don’t. All I want is two healthy babies and the best life you and I can give them together, alright?”

 

Daryl searches her eyes for some sign of doubt. When he finds none he gives a miniscule nod.

 

“Good,” she says with an air of finality, putting the issue to rest. “I’m gonna tell Michonne soon, if that’s okay. Maggie, too. I could use them. I’ve pulled away recently because I wasn’t ready to share, but now I really want their support.”

 

“‘Course.”

 

“I think my aunt may already suspect. She was weird when I got sick at her place. I should tell her in person, though. I won’t make you be there.”

 

“I don’t wanna make you do it alone.”

 

“You hate normal conversations, Daryl. Making you sit through this would probably fall under cruel and unusual punishment.”

 

“I ain’t makin’ you do all the heavy lifting ‘cause I’m a pussy. If you decide you want me there then I’m there.”

 

“Noble man you are,” Carol teases, but she looks grateful. “What about you? I don’t imagine you want to bring your dad into this.”

 

“Nah. The fucker doesn’t get to know shit about my life. Hell, I doubt he’d even want to. He’d pro’ly be disappointed I got anything good goin’ for me.”

 

“I wouldn’t lose any sleep if you decided you never wanted to talk to him again after all the things he’s done to you. If you ever decide you do want to, though, I’ll support you and be there for you, okay?”

 

“I know you would, baby,” Daryl says, running a thumb over hers. “But I don’t want you involved with him in any way. You’re too good, and he doesn’t deserve to even know your name.” Daryl pauses, wetting his lower lip with his tongue. “I dunno about my brother, though.”

 

“Whether or not you want to tell him?”

 

“I guess. I figure he’ll find out one way or another—he’s got eyes and ears all over this damn town—so it’ll be better to tell him myself. But…”

 

“But what?” Carol asks, rolling onto her side to face him, tucking her hands under her cheek. Daryl rubs a temple, the mere thought of his brother causing a headache.

 

“I dunno if I’d want him around our kids, and I dunno how to tell him that.” 

 

“Why don’t you want him around?” 

 

“It’s complicated, our relationship is complicated, but I just know that the sort of life he leads is one I don’t never want my babies to see, and I ain’t got a doubt in my mind that the moment he’s outta the pen he’s pickin’ right back up from where he left off.”

 

“Maybe he’d be willing to change. Maybe being a part of the babies’ lives would be enough to make it worth it.”

 

“I wasn’t enough to make it worth it,” Daryl says quietly. Carol gives him a sad smile.

 

“Who knows, sweetheart, maybe he just needs another push.”

 

“I’m not holdin’ my breath.”

 

“You could talk to your therapist about it; see what she’d recommend.”

 

“Oh fuck, I have therapy tomorrow,” Daryl groans, and Carol snorts.

 

“You’re trying for us, remember?” she reminds him, reaching out to brush her fingers through his hair.

 

“Yeah yeah,” Daryl mutters, taking hold of her wrist to kiss her knuckles.

 

“At least you got something good to tell her about.”

 

Daryl grins in spite of himself. “Yeah,” he says. “I do.”

 

“I can’t believe they’re okay,” Carol whispers then. “I was convinced they wouldn’t be. I was already saying goodbye.”

 

“I figure it’s about time. The universe owes us one.”

 

“Or two,” Carol says. Daryl smiles.

 

“Or two,” he agrees.

 

—-

 

_ March 2nd _

_ Tuesday _

 

The paperwork at the therapist’s office is fucking stupid, Daryl decides, looking at a sheet identical to the one last week, asking him inane questions about his mood as though it were quantifiable.  _ In the past two weeks how often have you felt anxious or on edge? _ Most of the time, but there’s not spot on the page for him to write, “But I was waiting to hear if my kids were going to live or die,” so how can that be an accurate assessment of him as a whole?

 

He’s fairly convinced psychology is a scam, but they take his insurance and waive his copay, so whatever.

 

“Ryan, will you please settle down?”

 

Daryl glances up to see the soccer mom and her rowdy toddler come into the waiting room. Soccer Mom is trying to juggle a purse, a diaper bag, a clipboard, a sippy cup, and a wiggling toddler all at once.

 

Daryl’s not sure if he’s been temporarily possessed or what, but before he’s even aware he’s going to do it, he’s asking, “Need help?”

 

Soccer Mom looks at him like he just offered her a million dollars.

 

“Would you?” she asks, and Daryl nods. He sits the idiotic paperwork down on the magazine table and stands to go assist this poor woman who appears to need at least four more arms than she currently has.

 

Daryl expects her to unload one of her bags on him, or maybe the clipboard, but instead she hands him her son, and Daryl tries not to panic as this squirming little person is thrust into his arms.

 

The toddler—Ryan?—stops squirming long enough ro register surprise at being held by a stranger. Maybe he remembers Daryl, though, because after a beat he grins at him, showing off his minimal amount of teeth. He points a tiny finger at Daryl’s shirt and says confidently, “Blue.”

 

“Uh...it’s red, bud,” Daryl tells him.

 

“Blue,” Ryan insists, poking his fingertip into Daryl’s chest. Is he meant to argue with a baby? he wonders. Or does he just let him be wrong?

 

“Um...Nah, see,  _ your  _ shirt is blue,” he explains, pointing his own finger at Ryan’s shirt, which is decorated in an array of ambiguous stains. Ryan looks down at himself.

 

“Blue,” he says of his own shirt.

 

“Right.” 

 

“Blue,” Ryan says again of Daryl’s shirt.

 

“No, man, red.” He points at himself. “Red.” He points at Ryan. “Blue.”

 

Ryan seems skeptical. He touches Daryl’s shirt and looks at him expectantly. “Red,” Daryl says. Ryan claps his hand to his own shirt and waits. “Blue,” says Daryl.

 

Ryan considers this, thinking hard. He then points at the wall behind Daryl and declares, “Blue.”

 

The wall is yellow. Daryl gives up.

 

“He calls everything blue,” says Soccer Mom, who Daryl realizes has already set her things down and has been watching this exchange with a smirk. Daryl isn’t convinced the kid isn’t just colorblind, but he gives a tight smile and hands Ryan back to his mom. “Thanks,” she says.

 

“Ain’t nothin’,” Daryl mutters, remembering in a rush that he is painfully shy.

 

“He likes you. Do you have little siblings or something?” asks Soccer Mom.

 

_ Little siblings. _ Of course that’s what she’d ask, because he doesn’t look any older than the eighteen years that he is, and he shouldn’t be having kids at his age.

 

“Nah,” he mumbles.

 

“Hm, well, you have good patience with him. Thank you again,” she says. 

 

“Daryl?”

 

Daryl looks over and sees Dr. Peterson waiting for him outside the waiting room. He gives Soccer Mom and Ryan a nod goodbye and goes to meet up with his therapist.

 

“Is that yours?” she asks, indicating to the paperwork on the table that Daryl abandoned.

 

“Nah, I turned mine in,” he says. He thinks he sees Dr. Peterson suppress a grin, but she doesn’t comment further.

 

He follows her down the hall again, to her office at the very end. He perches himself on the edge of the too-soft armchair, crosses his arms, and fixes his gaze to the floor.

 

“So how’ve you been?” Dr. Peterson asks, taking her seat across from him.

 

“Fine,” Daryl mutters.

 

“You said your girlfriend was getting tests done last week. Have you gotten the results back yet?”

 

Daryl smiles at the ground. This part is easy to share.

 

“Yeah, yesterday,” he says. “The kids are fine, nothin’ wrong at all.”

 

“Oh! Very glad to hear it. I bet you’re relieved.” 

 

“I am. There was a 62.5% chance they’d both be okay, least that’s what my friend Glenn said, but we was still pretty convinced at least one would be sick.”

 

“And how are you feeling about it?”

 

“Nuh-uh,” Daryl says, glancing up just long enough to shoot a glare. “I ain’t letting you trick me again.”

 

“How do you mean?”

 

“Last time I was here you tricked me into talkin’ about shit. I ain’t fallin’ for it again.”

 

“I didn’t trick you. All I did was ask questions. You’re the one who answered them.”

 

“Well Imma be more careful about what I answer from now on, so let’s keep them questions real basic. No ‘how do you feel’ bullshit.”

 

“Okay,” Dr. Peterson says agreeably. “Am I allowed to ask how you and your girlfriend met?”

 

“I guess,” Daryl says, finding the question innocuous enough. “Met her at school two Octobers ago. Helped her jump her car and then she just kinda never left.”

 

“Is she your first long-term girlfriend?”

 

“She’s my first everything. Hell, she was my first friend.”

 

“Didn’t have a lot of friends growing up, then?” Daryl shoots another glare and Dr. Peterson gets the point. “Okay, too personal. Let’s see. Do you two live together?”

 

“Mhm.”

 

“Your own place or with your or her parents?”

 

“Pfft. Our own place. We both got dead mommas and shit dads, no good livin’ with them.” 

 

“How did your moms die?” At Daryl’s glare she adds, “C’mon, I didn’t ask for a sob story, I just wanna know what happened.”

 

With a sigh he says, “My momma died in a house fire when I was little. Her momma died last year of that same genetic thing we was afraid our lil’ ones would have.”

 

“Just last year, huh? That must be rough for her. Oh, sorry, are you still not comfortable talking about her when she’s not here?”

 

“Yeah, but when I told her that she threw a pillow at me, called me a dork, and said I’m s’posed to talk about her to you, so I guess I’m allowed.”

 

“I think I like her. So how’s she doing since her mom died?”

 

“Better than she was.”

 

“I’d imagine being pregnant and thinking about becoming a mom herself makes things a little harder, though.”

 

Daryl feels stupid for not ever really thinking of it like that.

 

“Yeah, pro’ly,” he says lamely.

 

“I never asked how far along she is.”

 

“Um, think the doc said about eleven weeks?” 

 

“So you got a ways to go. And you said neither of you have a good relationship with your fathers? How are they handling the news?”

 

“They don’t know. My dad hopefully won’t never know. It’d be just fine with me if he forgot I ever existed.”

 

“What about hers?”

 

“Hers we’ll have to tell eventually. He might go apeshit, but she don’t spend any time with him so it’s whatever.”

 

“Is he the only family member you’re telling?”

 

“Carol’s aunt—girlfriend’s name is Carol, I know it rhymes, don’t worry about it—and then maybe...yeah.”

 

“Maybe…?”

 

“I dunno. My brother pro’ly.”

 

“You have a brother, then. Older or younger?”

 

“Older.” 

 

“Where does he live?”

 

“The penitentiary.”

 

“Ah, okay. What for?”

 

“Possession and dealin’.”

 

“How long?” 

 

“Few years, ‘though he’s up for parole towards the end of the year.”

 

“And you’re not sure if you’re going to tell him about the twins?”

 

“I mean, I’ll tell him. I wanna tell him in person, but I ain’t been to see him nearly two years.”

 

“Why are you so hesitant to tell him?”

 

“That’s pushing it,” Daryl warns.

 

“You don’t have to give details if you don’t want to, I’m just trying to get an idea of your relationship.”

 

“I just ain’t sure I want him comin’ around my kids.”

 

“Because he’s served time?”

 

“‘Cause he’s a dope addict.”

 

“He’s in prison. Do you think he’s getting clean in there?”

 

“Pfft, like he can’t get drugs in the pen. He ain’t clean; doubt he’s been clean in a long-ass time.”

 

“I imagine you wouldn’t want to be around it either.”

 

“Please, my daddy used to leave his meth pipe on the table like a goddamn centerpiece, that shit don’t faze me none. That’s the problem, though.”

 

“What is?”

 

“That it don’t faze me. It should. It’s fucked up that it don’t. I don’t want my girl exposed to that, and I sure as shit don’t want my kids anywhere near it.”

 

“Do you think your brother would get clean if it was the only way he could meet your kids?”

 

“Carol asked the same thing. I dunno. Maybe. Doubt it. And even if he did, how would I trust him to stay that way?”

 

“No one’s forcing you to keep him around forever. The cool thing about being a parent is that you can tell people to fuck off if you think they’re a harm to your kids.”

 

Daryl looks up, surprised. Are therapists allowed to say fuck?

 

“I could try, though,” he says after a beat. “Could see if an ultimatum might work.”

 

“Yes you could.”

 

Daryl picks at a fingernail.

 

“Maybe I’ll ask Carol if she’d care if I drove up Sunday for visiting hours. Get it outta the way while I got the nerve. It’s still kinda early but with twins she ain’t gonna be able to hide it much longer. People will talk and I’m sure it’ll get back to him sooner or later.”

 

“Sounds reasonable.”

 

Daryl nods absently and then freezes. He scowls at Dr. Peterson.

 

“How do you keep doin’ that?” he demands.

 

“Doing what?” she asks innocently.

 

“Gettin’ me to talk about shit.”

 

“I literally just asked questions; you make it sound like I was holding you at gunpoint.”

 

“Nah, there’s gotta be some weird therapy, I dunno, voodoo goin’ on here, ‘cause I ain’t talk easy. You’re messin’ with my head.”

 

“I promise you I’m not.”

 

“Uh-huh, whatever, fuck this,” Daryl mutters, standing up. “I gotta get back to work.” He heads for the exit.

 

“Same time next week?” Dr. Peterson calls out brightly. Daryl pauses and bites the inside of his cheek.

 

“Fine,” he says, and tramples angrily out the door.

 

—- 

 

_ March 7th _

_ Sunday _

 

Daryl weaves his driver’s license between his fingers over and over, standing in a grey and hollow room that reminds him of the DMV, if the DMV had sniffer dogs and the occasional strip search. 

 

“Who are you here to see?” asks the man at the front in a flat voice. 

 

“Merle Dixon,” Daryl says. 

 

“You on his list?”

 

“Should be, yeah.”

 

“ID?”

 

Wordlessly, Daryl hands over his license. The man takes it, types something into his computer, and scans his screen. He then pushes a few papers towards Daryl on the counter and hands him a pen. He looks at Daryl expectantly, so Daryl takes the pen and fills out the forms.

 

More forms. More waiting rooms. This is his fucking life now.

 

“Go over there and wait to be searched,” the man says, handing back his license and already turning away from him. Daryl wanders over to the wall and skims a poster about a rise in inmate suicide rates before he decides it’s not the type of reading material he’s feeling today. 

 

A door opens and an officer in full uniform comes into the room, holding a big, toned malinois by its leash. The officer is burly, with a beard and a gruff expression.

 

“Sit,” he tells the dog, who does so instantly, and Daryl briefly wishes Henry would listen like that. Henry would be a terrible police dog. “Hold your arms out,” the officer tells Daryl. He lifts his arms perpendicular to his sides and stares at the ceiling while the officer pats him down. He then has the dog sniff him out, and Daryl’s sure he smells obnoxious blue heeler, pregnant lady, and probably motor oil, but not any of the contraband he’s looking for. Sorry to disappoint, he doesn’t say to the dog. 

 

“Through the metal detector,” says the officer, leading him to where a detector is set up in the doorway. Daryl steps through it, suddenly paranoid that he’s carrying a handgun or something, even though he’s never owned a handgun in his life. The buzzer remains silent. “This way.” The officer leads him down the hall.

 

He takes Daryl into a white-walled room with overbearing fluorescent lights. He tells him to take a seat and to wait. Daryl, sits and folds his hands in front of him and trains his eyes at the table, the adrenaline pumping through him leaving a bitter taste in the back of his throat. He hates the prison, hates seeing his brother in it, and he also isn’t looking forward to Merle’s reaction to the news he’s brought with him.

 

A few minutes later the door opens again and Merle emerges, being escorted by a different officer. His brother is sporting a bright orange jumpsuit. He’s got a shaved head and has put on muscle since Daryl last saw him. He figures there’s not much else to do in prison other than lift weights and read books, and Merle was never the  _ Hooked on Phonics _ type.

 

“Baby brother!” Merle says, grinning ear to ear. He gets to the table and waits expectantly. Daryl sighs, pushes his chair back, and takes Merle’s hand and gives him a bro hug, complete with a solid thump on the back with his fist. The guard in the corner watches them closely, but he needn’t worry. Neither he nor his brother is the touchy-feely type.

 

“Hey,” Daryl mumbles, sitting back down and avoiding Merle’s eye as he settles in across from him.

 

“Haven’t seen you in a hot minute,” Merle says. “Would you take a look at you. You’re all grown up ain’tcha? Got rid of that baby fat. Workin’ an honest livin’ looks good on you, man.”

 

“Yeah.” 

 

“They treatin’ you right down at the shop?”

 

“Mhm, Dale’s real fair. Not makin’ all that much yet, since I ain’t seasoned like the others, but he’s givin’ me more than most would, and I’ll get there eventually. Should make a solid paycheck if I stick with it.”

 

“Damn straight you will. Told you that whole college scene is worthless so long as you got a trade.”

 

“Yeah, I guess.”

 

“How’s the place? You still doin’ renovations?”

 

“Um, kinda. We did a few, made it habitable at least. Gonna take a break on that for a bit though. Savin’ up our money.”

 

“Smart move. And your girl? How’s she doin’?” 

 

Daryl clenches his teeth and grimaces.

 

“Um. She’s good. She’s real good.” 

 

“Why you say it like that?” Merle asks. Daryl glances up at him and swallows. He was hoping to stall this part of the conversation longer.

 

“She’s real good,” he says slowly. “She’s uh...also real pregnant.”

 

Merle leans back in his chair, eyebrows raised. He stares Daryl down for a several long seconds, and Daryl suddenly feels like he did when he was five years old and Merle found out that Daryl had accidentally spilled juice all over the baseball card collection Merle’d been working on for years. 

 

“Bullshit,” Merle says. Daryl drums his fingers against the table and casts his eyes down.

 

“Nah, no bullshit, man,” he says.

 

Merle lets out a low whistle. “Boy, you’re supposed to be the smart one of the family, and you gone and done this? You gonna convince her to get rid of it?”

 

“No,” Daryl says firmly, finding the nerve to meet his brother’s eye again. “We don’t wanna.” 

 

“ _ We _ don’t wanna? You sayin’ you want a baby? At eighteen fuckin’ years old?”

 

“I mean…” What does Merle want him to do? Lie? “Yeah, I do. With her, I do.”

 

“Right. And you’re sure it’s even yours?” 

 

Daryl sees a flash of red. 

 

“Man, fuck you,” he says, jaw set.

 

“Hey, it’s an honest question,” Merle says, holding his hands up in surrender.

 

“No it ain’t, it’s a fuckin’ knock on my girl is what it is. Don’t imply shit like that. ‘Course they’re both mine.” 

 

Merle furrows his brow.

 

“The hell you mean by ‘both’?” he asks. Daryl lets out a big exhale.

 

“It’s twins,” he mumbles, almost inaudibly. 

 

“Boy, you did not just say what I think you just said.  _ Two? _ Are you fuckin’ with me? Tell me you’re fuckin’ with me.”

 

“I ain’t. She’s havin’ twins.”

 

“Well fuck, I guess you always have been the overachiever, haven’t you?” Merle asks. Daryl huffs a humorless laugh while Merle shakes his head at him. “Is this my fault? I spent too much time assumin’ you’d never get with nobody that I never taught you about rubbers?”

 

“No, jesus, Merle, it ain’t ‘cause of you. We fucked up. It was only one time, but guess once was plenty.” 

 

“Guess so.”

 

“Look, I know it’s stupid, I know we’re stupid, but...I dunno, we want ‘em. We really, really want ‘em, and we went through hell and back to make sure we could, so don’t try and make me feel no other type of way. I know what I want, and I just came here ‘cause I thought you deserved to know in person.”

 

Merle regards him, eyes narrowed.

 

“Alright,” he says finally. “My baby brother’s gonna have a baby of his own. Oh, no, excuse me,  _ two _ babies of his own. Guess you really ain’t so little no more.”

 

“Guess not.” 

 

“So you gonna make an honest woman outta this girl, then?”

 

“What?” Daryl asks, frowning.

 

“You gonna make an honest woman outta her? Step up, do your part, tie yourself down to her?”

 

“You askin’ me if I’m gonna  _ marry _ her?”

 

“What, so you’ll have two kids with this woman but the idea of marriage is suddenly too much?”

 

“No, it ain’t that. I just...I’m not doin’ that to her. Not right now.”

 

“How do you mean?”

 

“Please, ain’t it bad enough her kids are gonna be Dixons? You really want me to ask her, when she’s vulnerable as hell, if she wants to become one herself? Nah man, I’m givin’ her that out if she wants it. She says she doesn’t give a shit about our reputation, but I’m not tying her to it ‘til she really knows what she’s gettin’ into.”

 

“Yeah, that’s pro’ly fair. Might be better off lettin’ the kids be bastards than slappin’ on the Dixon name, huh?”

 

“Might be. I ain’t goin’ nowhere, and if it were up to me I never would, but that shit ain’t up to me. S’long as she lets me be in my kids lives’ I ain’t ever gonna fight her on what she needs to be happy. If it ain’t me, then it ain’t me.” 

 

“Our family’s never been the healthy, stable marriage type. Who knows, though, maybe you’ll be the exception.” 

 

“Hope so.” 

 

“You love this girl? I mean, properly love her?”

 

“More than anything,” Daryl says without hesitation.

 

“Then do right by her. That’s the best you can do.” Merle scratches his head and twists his mouth. “So I’m really gonna be an uncle then, huh?”

 

“Sure are.”

 

“When are they due?”

 

“Um, early September, but I guess twins sometimes come early or somethin’, I dunno.”

 

“Well you’re gonna hafta bring them by so they can meet their Uncle Merle.”

 

Daryl plays with a loose button on the sleeve of his flannel.

 

“Part of, uh, part of the reason I came here was to talk to you ‘bout that.” 

 

“What about it?” Merle asks, frowning.

 

“Just…” There’s no good way to phrase it, so he just comes right out with it. “You can’t be around my kids.” 

 

Merle tilts his head, his tongue wetting his lower lip.

 

“Come again?”

 

“You can’t be around my kids,” Daryl repeats. “Not while you’re usin’.” 

 

“I’m in prison! I ain’t usin’,” Merle says defensively, and Daryl scoffs.

 

“You gonna insult my intelligence, now? I ain’t stupid, Merle. And even if you were clean, you might be outta here in a few months. What then, huh? You mean to tell me all your mandatory UAs are gonna come up clean all by themselves? You’d never play dad’s card of makin’ us piss in a jar for him to take to his parole officer? Or, well, makin’ me, ‘cause I was actually clean.” 

 

“Watch how you talk to me, boy,” Merle says.

 

“What are you gonna do?” Daryl says, nodding at the officer standing guard behind them. Merle rolls his eyes.

 

“Why’d you even come here? Just to insult me? Tell me you’re gonna be a father and then tell me I don’t get to ever meet my own blood?”

 

“Nah man, I came here to give you a chance.”

 

“For what?” 

 

“Maybe...maybe I wasn’t worth stickin’ around for. Whatever, I’m over it, it don’t matter, and shit is what it is now. But this? This is a whole new start, and you get to decide if you wanna be there for your nieces, or nephews, or one of each, or if you’re gonna be just some guy whose name they hear thrown around now and again. Just like dad’s, ‘cause you know I ain’t lettin’ him within a mile of my children. But I’d like to let you.” 

 

Merle chews on his pinky finger and watches Daryl with a scowl.

 

“So what would you want from me? What are your  _ conditions _ ?” he asks, doing air quotes. 

 

“No dope,” Daryl says. “Not around ‘em, not away from ‘em, I don’t want them to even hafta know what that shit is until they learn it at some dumbass ‘don’t do drugs’ skit at school. And I’ll know, man, you know I will, I been around it my whole life. You quit the crystal while you’re in here, and you do rehab when you’re out.”

 

“Pfft,” Merle says. “ _ Rehab? _ You’ve really lost your goddamn mind.”

 

“Look, the ain’t no fuckin’ intervention. I’m not here to offer you a plane ticket to Florida to go to some smarmy rehab resort where they sing kumbaya and do yoga to teach you how to fill the void or whatever. You can do outpatient, you can go to NA meetings, I don’t give a shit. But I gotta have proof that you’re doin’ it. I’m not gonna beg, but those are my conditions. Now you decide if my kids are worth it to you.”

 

Merle rolls his eyes and looks away from Daryl, staring hard at the wall. Daryl waits.

 

“I’ll think about it,” Merle says finally, turning back to his brother. Daryl nods slowly.

 

“Alright,” he says. “That’s more than I thought I’d get.”

 

—-

 

When Daryl gets home he’s greeted by Henry, who jumps off the couch where he was laying on Carol’s legs and comes to say hello. Carol’s legs are the only part of her that are on the couch. The rest of her is on the floor, the coffee table pushed back to give her more space. Daryl gives Henry a few ear scratches before he goes and stands over Carol, an eyebrow raised.

 

“Mm, hi,” she says, blinking up at him like she’s just woken up.

 

“Hi, what are you doing?” 

 

“My legs were cramping, so I was trying to stretch them out like this, and then I realized my stomach didn’t hurt as bad in this position, and then I just kind of fell asleep.” 

 

“You don’t even have a pillow.”

 

“If we’re being honest, as long as I’m not throwing up, I could probably fall asleep on a sidewalk if I laid down too long.” She pats the space beside her. “Here, come join me and tell me how it went.”

 

Smiling fondly at her he lowers himself to the ground. Carol instructs him to take off his boots or deep clean the couch if he gets mud on it, so he tosses those over by the door before propping his feet up by hers, lying perpendicular to the couch. 

 

“It’s not as uncomfortable as I expected,” he says. “Wouldn’t sleep like this, though.”

 

“Hey, if you were throwing up five million times a day and you found a position that settled your stomach, I assure you you’d never move again.” 

 

“Point taken. How bad is it today? You keepin’ water down at least? You didn’t drink much yesterday, and that doc said you could get dehydrated.”

 

“Don’t worry about it.”

 

“So...no, you haven’t been keepin’ water down.”

 

“Let’s talk about your thing, instead. How was your brother?”

 

“You’re impossible. We’re bookmarking the water discussion, I’m not lettin’ you get away with that, but whatever. He was...about how I expected? A little better, maybe?”

 

“Did he flip out on you?”

 

“Not crazy bad or anything. He was a little pissed, but honestly with all the trouble I could be gettin’ into, this ain’t the worst. And how much can he really lecture me when he’s the one bein’ escorted by the guard, you know?”

 

“Makes sense. Was he surprised by the twin thing?”

 

“Ha, yeah. He called me an overachiever.”

 

“Pfft, that’s you alright. You and your damn sperm making me sick as a dog. No offense, Henry,” she adds, lifting her head up to apologize to Henry, who has curled up next to Daryl in the little family gathering on the floor. “Did you tell him the other stuff?” she asks, laying her head back down.

 

“I did.”

 

“How’d he take it?”

 

“Angry at first, then he said he’d think about it, which, honestly, is a damn miracle in and of itself. Don’t know if he’ll go through with it or not, but I did all I can do. Put my cards on the table, he knows my conditions, now it’s up to him.”

 

“I’m proud of you,” Carol says. “I’m sure that brought back a whole load of bullshit you’d rather not think about.” 

 

“Seems to kinda the nature of the game, lately. Think it might go with becoming a parent.” He frowns thoughtfully and then asks, “Speakin’ of, there’s somethin’ my therapist said that I been meanin’ to bring up with you.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Just...How are you doin’ with the idea of bein’ a mom without...I dunno, havin’ your mom here? Are you okay?”

 

Carol looks away from him.

 

“I’m okay sometimes,” she says. “Other times less so.”

 

“What times?”

 

“When I’m  _ really _ sick I wish I had a mom to take care of me. And like, when I think about giving birth—which, honestly, isn’t often because it’s terrifying—I get sad because I know I won’t have her there to help me get through it. Things like that.”

 

“Have you thought about going back to those journals she wrote for you? Readin’ through ‘em?”

 

“Oh god, Daryl, I ugly cried today at a youtube video about goat and donkey friends getting reunited after being apart from each other, I don’t know if I can handle something like that right now.”

 

“I get it. But also, she wrote ‘em like she was talkin’ to you, right? Maybe it’ll make you feel more like she’s here, even if it makes you a little sad.”

 

“Yeah, maybe. I’ll pull them out and see if I can get through a page without losing my shit sometime soon.”

 

“Okay. And you’ll tell me if you need anything else from me, right? Support. Space. More ginger candies. Anything, okay?”

 

“Thank you,” Carol says, smiling. She sighs and says, “This is gonna be harder than we thought, isn’t it?”

 

“Which part? It all seems super hard.” 

 

“Okay, fair, but I mean the part where having kids is forcing us to face all our repressed trauma.”

 

“Oh, that part. Yeah, fuck that.” 

 

“We can do it, though, right? For them?”

 

“Yeah, baby,” Daryl says, taking Carol’s hand. “For them.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just want it pointed out that i think my most underrated joke is the fact that daryl has been best friends with rick and glenn for over a year now and he still hasn't changed their names in his phone from "dumbass" and "grp prjct rick". "grp prjct rick" is especially a power move. i'm hilarious. anyway.
> 
> that youtube video carol was talking about is mr. g the goat and jellybean the burro, and every time i watch it it makes me feel emotions. 
> 
> anyway, i didn't give you a cliffhanger today, you're welcome. i can't promise i won't do it again. in fact, i'm almost certain i will. see you thursday!
> 
> toodle-loo,  
> -diz
> 
> (btw, sometimes i write one-off characters that are only around for a hot second to Fulfill a Plot Thing, and so i don't bother much with characterization, and they end up characterizing themselves, which is how i ended up with a doctor that speaks in really weird slang. the whole time i was writing him i legit was like, "why does he talk like this??" so if you were wondering, i can't help you, because i don't know either. k byee)


	7. Post Traumatic Stripper Discovery

_ March 11th _

_ Friday _

 

(4:54p) ~jackson.~

 

(4:54p) ~olivia.~

 

(4:54p) ~noah.~

 

(4:55p) ~emma.~

 

(4:56p) >What's happening right now?<

 

(4:57p) ~i googled popular baby names to help daryl out.~

 

(4:58p) -help me out w/ wut?-

 

(4:59p) ~naming your babies, duh.~

 

(5:07p) -idr asking u 4 help w/ names-

 

(5:09p) ~and yet i'm offering anyway. i'm such a good friend.~

 

(5:10p) ~liam.~

 

(5:10p) ~sophia.~

 

(5:12p) -cant use sophia thts the name of carols dead car-

 

(5:15p) >What?<

 

(5:17p) -nvm-

 

(5:17p) -i kinda 4got we'd have 2 name the twins-

 

(5:18p) -thts stressful wut if we give them weird names on accident n then they have 2 live w/ them 4ever?-

 

(5:20p) ~i mean, not to be biased, but you can't really go wrong with glenn.~

 

(5:21p) >Or Rick.<

 

(5:22p) ~you've got two so it's perfect. baby rick and baby glenn.~

 

(5:24p) -yeah gud try-

 

(5:24p) -sides we dnt even kno if theyre boys or girls or both-

 

(5:25p) ~rick and glenn are gender neutral names.~

 

(5:27p) -theyre rly not-

 

(5:30p) >Anything's a gender neutral name if you decide it is.<

 

(5:32p) ~a little girl in a pink bow named rock.~

 

(5:32p) ~*rick.~

 

(5:34p) -rock is a better name thn rick-

 

(5:35p) >Okay, hurtful.<

 

(5:35p) >What do you think they are, Daryl?<

 

(5:38p) -u mean boys or girls?-

 

(5:39p) ~or both.~

 

(5:41p) -idk n tbh idrc-

 

(5:41p) -just want healthy bbs-

 

(5:44p) >I wonder if they're identical.<

 

(5:45p) ~that would make me so nervous. what if you mix them up and have them backwards for the rest of their lives? i wonder how many times that's happened.~

 

(5:48p) -cool thnx 4 a new thng 2 b anxious abt-

 

(5:50p) >If you're gonna mix them up do it while they're young so it doesn't matter as much.<

 

(5:53p) ~what if you mixed up your identical twins and one committed a crime but their fingerprints led to the other twin so they got blamed for it?~

 

(5:53p) ~that’d make a good movie. should i major in film?~

 

(5:55p) >No, because I'm certain that plot has already been done at least a million times.<

 

(5:56p) ~whatever, art is dead, there's no such thing as originality, etc etc~

 

(5:57p) >You still probably shouldn't major in film.<

 

(5:59p) -hey this is off topic but wut do u guys kno abt like-

 

(5:59p) -giving birth?-

 

(6:01p) >Never really gone through it myself.<

 

(6:02p) -hilarious-

 

(6:04p) ~i saw my oldest niece being born.~

 

(6:05p) >Seriously?<

 

(6:07p) ~yeah, because for some reason my family thought that the one thing a 12 year old boy would want to see is a human being coming out of his sister's vagina.~

 

(6:07p) ~anyway it was horrifying and it scarred me for life.~

 

(6:08p) - :/ -

 

(6:09p) ~i mean, i'm sure it's different when it's your own kid. and i love my niece a lot so it was worth it or whatever.~

 

(6:10p) -is it rly as bad as they say it is?-

 

(6:11p) ~here hold on.~

 

(6:16p) ~ _ dumbass sent a link _ ~

 

(6:17p) -wut is tht i dnt trust u-

 

(6:18p) ~youtube video of someone giving birth.~

 

(6:19p) >Yeah, you can watch that one without me, brother.<

 

(6:20p) -i dnt wna watch it-

 

(6:21p) ~hey, you're the one who asked. you're also the one who's gonna see it in person in a few months, so you should try and prepare the best you can.~

 

(6:22p) -.......k-

 

(6:22p) -watchin it-

 

(6:33p) -aksfkalfshkalghslaljhsajakaldfhhaka-

 

(6:33p) -nope-

 

(6:33p) -carol cant go thru tht gotta find a different way-

 

(6:35p) >Roflll<

 

(6:35p) ~there’s always a c-section, tho my other sister had one of those and that's still like, cutting your whole stomach open and pulling a person out of it.~

 

(6:37p) -no???-

 

(6:37p) -is there a better 3rd option tht involves less blood n screaming?-

 

(6:38p) -tht lady was screaming so much-

 

(6:38p) -wut if carol screams like tht i dnt want her 2 b in pain-

 

(6:41p) ~she's gonna give birth to twins, bud, she's gonna be in pain.~

 

(6:43p) >Brb messaging Michonne to make sure her IUD is still working.<

 

(6:45p) -shes a small person wut if she gets ripped in half?-

 

(6:45p) -i need 2 like-

 

(6:45p) -apologize 2 her-

 

(6:47p) ~i dunno, according to my sisters it sucks a lot but then you have your baby and you're like “oh okay, that was worth it.”~

 

(6:49p) >I GOT CURIOUS AND CLICKED THE LINK WHY DID I CLICK THE LINK?!?<

 

(6:50p) -fukin awful rite?-

 

(6:52p) ~you guys are weak.~

 

(6:53p) -ur not even wrong-

 

(6:53p) -4 real tho how tf is she gna do tht? she cant do tht itll hurt her-

 

(6:55p) ~daryl every single person in the world had to be born, she'll be fine. like, sure, my sister always complains about how the usa has the worst maternal death rate in the developed world, but she also shops exclusively at whole foods so i don't always listen to her.~

 

(6:56p) -y tf wud u say tht???-

 

(6:58p) >Because he's an idiot who doesn't think before he speaks. Daryl, do not google things.<

 

(7:02p) -2 late im googling things-

 

(7:02p) -my gf is gna die-

 

(7:03p) ~daryl, no, carol isn't going to die.~

 

(7:06p) -how tf is giving birth so dangerous y hasnt nature fixed this???-

 

(7:08p) >Glenn, you broke Daryl again.<

 

(7:09p) ~i didn't mean to!~

 

(7:09p) ~she will be fine. especially since with twins she'll be super closely monitored. my youngest sister had a uncommon pregnancy and they were on her like glue her whole labor.~

 

(7:12p) -how long does labor take?-

 

(7:14p) ~my middle sister was in labor with her first daughter for like 31 hours?~

 

(7:15p) -aaaaaaaaa-

 

(7:16p) >Glenn stop talking.<

 

(7:17p) ~he asked!~

 

(7:18p) -i g2g carol just got home n i have 2 go do w/e she wants me 2 do 4ever as repayment-

 

(7:19p) ~bright side: you have until fall to worry about it!~

 

(7:20p) - :/ -

 

(7:21p) ~not helpful?~

 

(7:22p) -wut have i done?-

 

(7:22p) -getting someone pregnant shud b a felony-

 

(7:23p) >That might solve our overpopulation problem.<

 

(7:24p) ~that’s our daryl. pulling out-of-the-box solutions to global problems. criminalizing impregnation. brilliant.<

 

(7:25p) >What can't that man do?<

 

(7:26p) ~chill the fuck out?~

 

(7:27p) >That's for damn sure.<

 

—-

 

Around eight in the evening Carol made herself at home in front of the toilet, and now as it's nearing midnight, she hasn't left once.

 

“You're starting to worry me a bit. You s'posed to be gettin’  _ this _ sick?” asks Daryl, who has barely left her side all night. He's sitting against the bathtub, and she's curled up in the fetal position on the floor, her head resting on his lap. 

 

“Dunno,” she mumbles into Daryl's pant leg. “I just wanna be able to sleep. I'm so tired.”

 

“Wanna try another one of them pills?”

 

“No point if I throw it up before it has time to work.” 

 

“When was the last time you had water and kept it down?”

 

“Dunno, long time ago,” she says, her words weak and slurred together.

 

“I think you're gettin’ dehydrated.” He hesitates, wary of how she'll react to his following suggestion. “We might be gettin’ to the point where we should go to the hospital.” Her fingers clench around his ankle where she's resting her hand.

 

“Absolutely not,” she says, too tired to lift her head, so instead she just shakes it back and forth vehemently against his thigh.

 

“I know you don't like hospitals, but you can barely move you're so weak.”

 

“It'll go away,” she insists.

 

“It ain't gone away for hours now, and you can't take nothin’ for it 'cause it won't stay down. At the hospital they can give you some fluids and meds to get you back to normal.”

 

“Uh-uh,” she says, curling into a tighter ball. 

 

“Honey, look at me,” Daryl says gently. She huffs a sigh and turns his way, movements sluggish. She looks up at him with sunken eyes and a pale face, and it strengthens Daryl's resolve. He cups her cheek. “I wouldn't ask you to do this if I didn't think you had to. I know how hospitals make you feel, but you got through your appendectomy just fine.”

 

“After I had a panic attack in the car,” she reminds him. “And then I was fine 'cause I was on pain meds.”

 

“They ain't gonna make you stay long. All you need is to get hydrated.”

 

“I'll drink water, I promise,” she begs. 

 

“You already been tryin’, baby. Every single thing you've put down has come right back up. We need to get you some help.”

 

“Don't make me go,” she says in a small voice. She is limp and exhausted and two seconds from tears, and Daryl hates himself for putting this on her even though he knows it's for the best.

 

“I gotta, sweetheart,” he says apologetically. “'Sides, it ain't just you I'm worrying about.” He puts his hand on her belly to punctuate his point. Her lower lip trembles.

 

“I feel so awful,” she moans. “I wanna sleep, that's all I want. I don't wanna go to the hospital.”

 

“We'll go to the hospital, they'll fix you up, and then we'll come back home and you can sleep the whole damn weekend away, alright? Promise it'll be okay, but we gotta go, sweetheart, or you're just gonna get more dehydrated, and you and them babies are gonna turn into dirt.”

 

She makes a sound that's somewhere between a sob and a groan of pain. Finally, she nods her head, just once, but it's enough for Daryl.

 

“Aight, up we go,” he says, moving to scoop her into his arms. She loops her own arms loosely around his neck and buries her face against his chest. He carries her out to the car like that, just like he did almost exactly a year ago when she couldn't stand up straight for more than two seconds without her appendix sending her crashing down.

 

“Gonna go grab your insurance card and a coat for you and then be right back,” he tells her. She looks up at him with sad, glassy eyes, and it breaks his heart. He pushes her hair back and kisses her on the forehead. “I love you,” he says, hoping she knows he's doing this to help her and not torture her.

 

“You too,” she mutters, closing her eyes and letting her head loll to the side. That's good enough for Daryl. He shuts the passenger side door and gets ready to go.

 

—-

 

More waiting rooms.

 

The ER waiting room at one in the morning, however, is a brand of its own.

 

There is a severely intoxicated woman arguing with a security guard at the top of her voice in one corner, and in the other corner there's a man with several blood-stained paper towels wrapped around his hand. Adjacent to him there's an older woman with thick makeup checking her reflection in a pocket-sized mirror, while sitting next to an uncomfortable looking man several years her junior, saying, “This is why I told you we should have used the one with the flared base.”

 

Carol is burrowed against Daryl, hiding her face so she doesn't have to see what's going on around her. She's breathing fast and her heart is beating so hard he can feel it. He strokes her hair and mumbles reassurances to her. It’s testament to how sick she’s feeling that she let him carry her into the ER without a fight.

 

“Can we leave yet?” she mumbles, gripping onto the front of his shirt.

 

“We haven’t even seen the doctor, dork,” he says, resting his chin on the top of her head.

 

“Go steal an IV bag and we’ll figure out how to use it at home.”

 

“Sound plan, but I dunno where they keep the IVs. Sorry.”

 

“Mm.”

 

“Carol Miller?” a stern-faced nurse calls out into the waiting room. Daryl nods at her.

 

“You want me to carry you or you wanna walk?” he asks Carol quietly.

 

“Carry,” she says, her nails digging into him, and he realizes it’s not just that she’s too tired to walk, but that she’s also not ready to face the hospital without him as close as possible. He’s okay with this, though, thankful that all the heavy lifting at work and push-up competitions he used to have with Merle have given him upper-body strength.

 

“Does she need a wheelchair?” the nurse asks when she sees Daryl lift her up. He shakes her head. When she raises an eyebrow, he adds,

 

“She’s a little overwhelmed. I think a wheelchair would make it worse.”

 

The nurse shrugs like she’s not up to arguing, looking likes she’s had A Night and she’s picking her battles. She gestures for them to follow her, and leads them down a hallway to yet another examination room. Daryl is becoming a pro at these. He helps her sit on the examination table. 

 

“Sit up for just a minute, sweetheart. Let her take your vitals.” She gets into a wobbly sitting position on the edge of the table, and he holds her steady with a hand to her lower back while the nurse pulls out a blood pressure cuff and a stethoscope. 

 

“What seems to be the problem tonight?” the nurse asks, attentive but not particularly engaged as she wraps the cuff around Carol’s upper arm.

 

“Dehydrated,” Carol mumbles, head lolling to the side, her eyes shut. The nurse pauses long enough to take her pressure, and then purses her lips.

 

“Blood pressure is high.”

 

“She’s got a bad history with hospitals,” Daryl explains for her, not loving having to talk but preferring it over making her do it. “Makes her anxious. Sometimes makes her blood pressure higher than usual. S’fine a few weeks ago when we was at the doctor’s.”

 

“Why were you at the doctor’s?” the nurse asks.

 

“Genetic testing,” Carol mumbles. 

 

“She’s pregnant,” Daryl clarifies. “With twins. We was gettin’ tests done, but they all came back normal. That ain’t the problem. Her morning sickness is real bad and she ain’t had no fluids for pro’ly a good twenty-four hours now.” 

 

“How far along are you, Carol?” the nurse asks. 

 

“Twelve weeks,” she says, voice sounding tight. She grimaces and says, “Do you have a trash can or something? Sitting up makes me...I’m gonna—” She covers her mouth with her hand, and the nurse gets the idea. She quickly hands her a bedpan, and Carol retches into it. Daryl moves up to sit on the side of the table so he can hold back her hair, the action so familiar it’s automatic at this point. There’s nothing left in her stomach to even throw up, but her body tries anyway, until she’s crying in frustration and pain. 

 

“You good?” the nurse asks once Carol’s breathing evens out, sounding a little more sympathetic. Carol gives a weak nod, and hands the bedpan over with a shaky hand. “That’s been going on all day?” 

 

“Mm,” Carol mumbles. “Can I lay down?”

 

The nurse nods, and she and Daryl help her get onto her back. 

 

“Okay, I’m going to let the doctor know what’s going on. He’ll probably want to take some blood to check your electrolyte levels, and then he might administer some fluids.”

 

“Don’t wanna be here that long,” Carol says, wincing as she tries to find a position that doesn’t hurt. “I wanna go home.”

 

“We’ll go home once you’re hydrated,” Daryl assures her. She looks at him with sad eyes, and Daryl sighs. “I know you hate it, but you’ll have to stay here even longer if you get any sicker.”

 

“You got this?” the nurse asks him, nodding at the ever reluctant Carol. Daryl nods. “Then I’ll go see what we can do for you two.” She leaves without a goodbye.

 

“Hold my hand,” Carol tells Daryl. He does so without hesitation.

 

“You’re trembling,” he says, frowning. 

 

“Don’t wanna be here,” she says by way of explanation. “Hate hospitals, people die in hospitals, and I feel like death. Or what about the babies? What if I’m sick ‘cause there’s something wrong with the babies?” 

 

“Nah, the only reason you’re sick is ‘cause them babies are being a pain in the ass already. Lettin’ us know what we’re in for is all.”

 

“My heart is beating so fast and the nurse said my blood pressure is high, what if I stress them out and it hurts them? Things I read said stress can induce miscarriage.”

 

“We ain’t gonna be here long enough for that, okay? We’ll get you all fixed up and calmed down and back into bed in no time.” 

 

“I just want them to be okay,” she whispers, her anxious mind clearly stuck on this intrusive thought. Daryl squeezes her hand, knowing the only thing that’ll get her out of her loop is getting her out of the hospital.

 

Over the next hour Daryl watches helplessly as Carol gets poked and prodded at. The doctor takes her blood, declares her dehydrated—which Daryl is annoyed by, because that’s what he said in the first place, what exactly was the point of making her go through a blood draw?—and gets her hooked up to an IV drip and administers some anti-nausea medication.

 

“You got some color back in you,” Daryl notes as her body takes in all the fluids. She gives him a weak smile that says that she is no less happy about being in the hospital than she was when they first arrived. “How’s the stomach?”

 

“Better,” she admits. “Could fall asleep finally if I weren’t still so anxious.” 

 

“Yeah, I figure we’ll probably both sleep most of our Saturday away. It’ll be almost daylight by the time we get home.”

 

“Carol?” The two of them look up to see the doctor come back in, carrying a small bowl of applesauce. “Here, I want you to try and eat what you can of this and we’ll see if you keep it down. If you do, then I think it’ll be safe for you to go. I want you eating more regularly, okay? Even if you don’t feel like it. Snacking every couple hours can actually help you from going into these intense nausea spells.”

 

“‘Kay.”

 

“I’m also going to bring in an ultrasound machine and we’ll do a quick look and make sure everything’s going okay with the twins, just so you can leave with peace of mind. Sound good?”

 

Carol’s eyes brighten for the first time in hours, and Daryl could kiss the doctor.

 

“Really?” she says. The doctor nods as he hands her the applesauce. 

 

“I’ll be back with it in a few minutes.”

 

When he leaves the room again, Carol turns to Daryl with a small smile.

 

“I haven’t seen them yet,” she says.

 

“Oh yeah, you haven’t, have you?” Daryl realizes. “Hospital’s ain’t all bad, huh?”

 

“Mm, debatable,” she says, and Daryl rolls his eyes fondly.

 

“Eat your applesauce,” he says.

 

A good forty five minutes later, because nothing in the ER can take a reasonable amount of time, Carol has her growing belly exposed as the doctor squeezes some sort of jelly onto it. (Carol had been very happy when she was told she didn’t need anything shoved up her vagina this time.)

 

Unlike last time, when she’d had her eyes trained to the ceiling, Carol is glued to the screen, rapt with attention. The doctor rolls the wand-thing—Daryl doesn’t claim to know any technical terms for any medical thing at all—over the lower part of Carol’s belly, and an image pops up on the screen.

 

“Couple of strong heartbeats, that’s for sure,” the doctor muses as that same overlapping, rhythmic noises as before fills the room. Carol tears her eyes away long enough to beam at Daryl, who smiles at her and gives her shoulder a squeeze.

 

“Okay, so this is Twin A right here in the forefront,” the doctor says, pointing out a blob that looks bigger than it did a few weeks ago. “And Twin B is on this side over here.” He moves his finger to a second blob. “Can you see their heads? Right here. And then this is the rest of their body.”

 

“They’re so different than last time,” Daryl muses. It’s meant for Carol, but the doctor hears him and says,

 

“They grow fast, that’s for sure.”

 

“Are they okay?” Carol asks, hardly blinking as she stares.

 

“As far as I can tell. Your notes said that you don’t have an OB-GYN yet, correct? You’ll want to get on that so you can be getting monitored regularly. They’ll want to monitor you more often with a high risk pregnancy.”

 

“High risk?” Carol asks, alarmed.

 

“Multiples are automatically high risk, just as precaution, don’t worry,” the doctor says mildly. “For now just try what I said for keeping the vomiting to a minimum, and get you a doctor you like as soon as possible. I’ll give you a list of referrals before you leave.”

 

“Okay,” Carol says in a small voice. “Can I—is there a way for me to keep a picture of that?” She nods at the screen.

 

“Of course,” the doctor says with a smile.

 

“Those are our babies, Daryl,” Carol whispers then, glancing at him, tears in her eyes.

 

“Wild, huh?” he says, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles.

 

“Understatement,” she says. 

 

Daryl looks at the screen, the picture punctuated by the sound of his twins’ beating hearts, and he can’t help but agree.

 

—-

 

_ March 12th _

_ Saturday _

 

(5:54p) - _ you sent a photo _ -

 

(5:59p) ~yooo, is that what i think it is?~

 

(6:01p) >That an ultrasound?<

 

(6:03p) -yeah-

 

(6:03p) -had a long nite last nite-

 

(6:03p) -had 2 go 2 the hospital-

 

(6:05p) ~what? Why?~

 

(6:06p) >Everything okay?<

 

(6:08p) -yeah everyones fine but carol got rly sick n dehydrated-

 

(6:08p) -dr did a scan of the bbs tho n we got tht pic-

 

(6:09p) -i keep looking @ it isnt it crazy? those r my kids-

 

(6:11p) ~yeah that’s bananas.~

 

(6:12p) >That’s super weird. It’s like they exist.<

 

(6:13p) -rite?-

 

(6:15p) >How’s Carol doing?<

 

(6:18p) -shes aslp we were @ the hospital all fukin nite n she was throwin up all day yesterday so i wudnt be surprised if she slpt until like tmrrw-

 

(6:19p) -im worried abt her tho-

 

(6:21p) ~because she was sick?~

 

(6:24p) -yeah but not just tht-

 

(6:24p) -wuts the name of tht disorder ppl get whn smthn bad happens in their past n they get all anxious abt it whn things remind them of it? ppl who go 2 war have it a lot?-

 

(6:26p) ~post traumatic stripper discovery?~

 

(6:26p) ~sigh.~

 

(6:27p) -yeah no not tht-

 

(6:28p) >Post traumatic stripper discovery is a very serious condition, though. I’m glad you’re bringing attention to it, Glenn. My thoughts and prayers go out to those affected by this terrible disease.<

 

(6:28p) > _ grp prjct rick changed the group name to “Post Traumatic Stripper Discovery Awareness” _ -

 

(6:30p) ~when you guys die i’m going to show up to your funerals in a party hat and carrying balloons in celebration.~

 

(6:31p) >Your confidence that we’re going to die first is sort of alarming. What are you planning?<

 

(6:32p) ~don’t worry about it.~

 

(6:33p) -k so we’re gna get murdered by glenn w/e u still havent answered my question-

 

(6:34p) >I think our technologically challenged friend was trying to say post traumatic stress disorder.<

 

(6:35p) -yeah tht thing-

 

(6:36p) ~what about it?~

 

(6:37p) -i think carol has it-

 

(6:39p) >Has it over what?<

 

(6:40p) -hospitals-

 

(6:40p) -ever since her mom died she freaks tf out whnevr she goes near one which wudnt be tht big of a deal xcept like-

 

(6:40p) -shes gna have 2 give birth-

 

(6:40p) -in a hospital-

 

(6:42p) ~yeah i can see where that would be an issue.~

 

(6:43p) >Have you talked to her about it?<

 

(6:45p) -no not yet i was gna wait until she was feelin a lil better-

 

(6:45p) -shes not gr8 @ having things like tht brought up tho-

 

(6:46p) ~well it’s not like she can ignore it. sooner or later those babies are gonna have to come out of her.~

 

(6:47p) -ik but wut if she doesnt deal w/ this n then giving birth goes super bad bc shes in pain n also has ptsd @ the same time?-

 

(6:47p) -ugh she worries me so much luvin n caring abt ppl is stupid-

 

(6:48p) -shud have just nvr tlked 2 any of u n died alone-

 

(6:51p) >Maybe, but think of all the opportunities to insult Glenn you would have missed out on.<

 

(6:52p) -ig thts tru-

 

(6:53p) ~i hope you know that every word you say just makes me add more torture to my murder plot.~

 

(6:54p) >It’s a risk we’re willing to take.<

 

(6:55p) -tbh itd b a worthy cause 2 die 4-

 

(6:56p) >It’s a better death than from post traumatic stripper discovery.<

 

(6:57p) ~i hope you both fall into pits full of cow manure.-

 

—-

 

_ March 13th _

_ Sunday _

 

“Oh, you’re awake. How you feelin’?” Daryl asks, coming into the bedroom where Carol is propped up against the backboard leafing through a copy of  _ What to Expect When You’re Expecting _ she got from the library. She slept almost the entire day Saturday, and still managed to sleep through the night as well. The morning light is filtering in, and Carol has the window cracked to let some of the spring air enter the stuffy room.

 

“Better,” she says, turning a page. “Did you know the babies are the size of plums and can move their fingers and toes?”

 

“That’s really weird,” Daryl says, sitting on the edge of the bed and placing a hand on her knee. “Can you feel them moving around and stuff?”

 

“Nah, too early for that, I think. Couple weeks still, at least according to this.”

 

“You didn’t throw up last night, or at least if you did I didn’t hear it.”

 

“I didn’t,” Carol says, sounding relieved. “I’m still nauseous, but I’ve been trying to snack on stuff whenever I wake up and I think it’s helping. And the book says it should all chill out here pretty soon.” She dogtags her book and sits it on the table. “We need to get a doctor. Next week is officially second trimester.”

 

“I don’t even know what that means.”

 

“There are three trimesters. From what I gather, there’s the vomit trimester, the horny and hungry trimester, and the unbearably uncomfortable trimester. I’m almost done with the vomit trimester, though I guess twins can make it last longer because why should anything ever be easy?”

 

“There’s so much shit to know, I feel like a dumbass.”

 

“Me too. That’s why we should get a doctor. I’m gonna make some calls before work tomorrow.”

 

“‘Kay. I’m down with whoever you’re comfortable with.” He clicks his tongue a few times and adds, “Hey, can I bring something up?”

 

“Well now you have to,” Carol says, furrowing her brow.

 

“‘Kay, so, I’m kinda worried about...your thing with hospitals.” When Carol squints at him, he clarifies. “I get why you feel the way you do about ‘em, but like, what are we gonna do when you’re stuck in one for who knows how long giving birth?”

 

Carol twists her mouth and shrugs, playing absently with the hem of the comforter.

 

“I dunno, we’ll figure it out.”

 

“Ain’t that somethin’ we should try and plan for ahead of time?”

 

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” she says evasively, and Daryl frowns.

 

“Maybe it’s somethin’ you should bring up with your therapist.”

 

“ _ You’re _ telling  _ me _ what to tell my therapist?” Carol asks, smirking a little. “How the tables turn.”

 

“Just worry about you is all.” He laces his fingers through hers. “How is therapy goin’, by the way. You don’t never talk about it.”

 

“Fine,” she says.

 

“Just fine?”

 

“Just fine.” She says it with an air of finality, and Daryl knows better than to push her, even though the answer doesn’t sit well with him.

 

“Promise you’ll at least think about it? We’ve had enough bullshit for a lifetime, I think, let’s try and make bringing these two into the world as easy as possible.” 

 

“It’ll be fine, Daryl,” she says. She sighs at Daryl’s skeptical expression. “Yes, okay, I’ll think about it.”

 

“Aight. Thank you. Now,” he says, reaching over and picking up her book off the nightstand. “Teach me some shit. You said they can move their fingers and toes? What else?”

 

“I’ll show you,” Carol says happily, flipping the book open to where she left off. She reads the passages aloud, Daryl scanning the pages with her, following along.

 

—-

 

_ March 14th _

_ Monday _

 

(1:32p) *Hey baby, I need you to me a huge favor, and before you say no, remember that you promised me you’d do anything for me because you watched that birth video and felt really guilty.*

 

(1:36p) -mmmkay wut is it?-

 

(1:37p) *I need you to commit a murder.*

 

(1:39p) -hm not sure i can do tht-

 

(1:40p) *You promised, tho.*

 

(1:41p) -who am i murdering?-

 

(1:42p) *My coworker.*

 

(1:43p) -k wutd he do?-

 

(1:44p) *I decided to tell ppl that I’m pregnant bc it’s getting pretty obvious, and when I told him his eyes got really big and he said “oh man, thank god, you don’t look pregnant at all, I thought you were just getting really fat.”*

 

(1:45p) -o yikes-

 

(1:46p) *And then when he saw how upset that made me he tried to backtrack and ended up saying “no, I mean, you look fat but you’re not actually fat, it’s just because you’re pregnant, so I’m sure you’ll look normal again eventually, like after you give birth.”*

 

(1:47p) -o double yikes-

 

(1:48p) *So now he has to die.*

 

(1:48p) *I’d do it myself but I’m too busy crying in the bathroom. You have to do it.*

 

(1:50p) -i mean he deserves it but idk if its a gud idea 4 me 2 get arrested rn-

 

(1:50p) -ud b a single mom-

 

(1:51p) *It’s ok, it’s a worthy cause, and I’d be sure to tell our children of your noble sacrifice.*

 

(1:52p) -prob not gna murder nyone bb-

 

(1:53p) *Then kick his ass at least.*

 

(1:53p) *Ugh Daryl, I googled full-term twin pregnancy bumps and you better just leave me now.*

 

(1:53p) *My coworker is right.*

 

(1:54p) -yeah no-

 

(1:55p) *I’m going to be a planet. I’ll have my own gravitational pull. Moons will be orbiting me. And I’m disgusting rn too. I’m always vomiting and I have acne and none of my pants fit anymore and why are you with me I’m an ugly goblin.*

 

(1:56p) -ok no wrong ur not an ugly goblin-

 

(1:57p) -ur the best thing 2 look @ outta everything in the world-

 

(1:58p) *Circus acts are fun to look at, too.*

 

(1:59p) -carol ur super fukin beautiful-

 

(1:59p) -ur coworker is a pos-

 

(1:59p) -i didnt wna go 2 work this morn bc u were all curled up on me n i just wnted 2 stay there w/ u but u kno $ or w/e-

 

(2:00p) -plus its prob kinda creepy 2 stare @ u-

 

(2:01p) *I think I might be hormonal.*

 

(2:02p) -mb a bit-

 

(2:02p) -thts ok tho-

 

(2:03p) *It’s just that my body doesn’t feel like mine anymore, and it’s worth it and I want this, but also everything keeps changing and they’re just gonna keep changing for months still. I never have given a shit what ppl think of what I look like, but I’m still crying in the bathroom rn.*

 

(2:04p) -tbf u cried last nite bc henry was whining in his slp n u thot he mite b having a nitemare-

 

(2:05p) *Oh no I had finally forgotten about that, why did you remind me?!* 

 

(2:06p) *Ugh, I’m a mess. I have to get back to work but everyone’s gonna know that I’ve been straight up sobbing.* 

 

(2:07p) -let em kno who cares? ur pregnant ur allowed 2 b kinda insane-

 

(2:07p) -prob dnt throw any punches if ur coworker calls u fat again tho-

 

(2:08p) *No promises. Will you bail me out if I get arrested for assault?*

 

(2:09p) -ofc-

 

(2:09p) -ride or die-

 

(2:10p) *Ride or die. Love you.*

 

(2:11p) -ilu2-

 

(2:11p) -ur rly pretty-

 

(2:12p) *Flirt.*

 

(2:13p) * <3 *

 

—-

 

_ March 15th _

_ Tuesday _

 

When Ryan sees Daryl come into the waiting room his face breaks into a wide grin. He squirms down from his mother’s lap and toddles over to him, carrying a toy school bus in his hands. Last week he dropped a magazine on Daryl’s lap and made him name random things he pointed at, and giggled through the entire thing. Daryl’s starting to believe he’s accidentally made friends with a two year old.

 

“Hey lil’ dude,” Daryl mutters at him, taking his seat and sitting his paperwork aside untouched with no intent to finish it. In response, Ryan holds out his toy bus. It’s got little sticky fingerprints on it, and one of the wheels is lopsided. “For me?” Daryl asks. Ryan thrusts the bus at him more intently, and Daryl takes it with a mumbled thanks.

 

“Bss snong,” Ryan says incomprehensibly. 

 

“What?” asks Daryl.

 

“Bss snong!” Ryan insists. Daryl frowns and looks over at Soccer Mom for help.

 

“Bus song,” she clarifies with a laugh. “Sorry, he’s not great with his S’s. He’s been listening to ‘Wheel’s on the Bus’ on repeat for days now.”

 

“Ah,” Daryl says. He turns back to Ryan, shaking his head. “Sorry lil’ dude, I don’t sing.”

 

“Bss snong,” Ryan insists.

 

“You sing it,” Daryl says. 

 

“Can you show your friend how you sing the bus song, Ryan?” asks Soccer Mom. Ryan shakes his head vehemently and Daryl gives him a sympathetic pat on the cheek.

 

“It’s cool,” he tells him. “I’m shy too.”

 

“You’re so sweet with him,” Soccer Mom says. “He gets so excited when he sees you. I think he was waiting the whole drive here to show you his school bus.”

 

“It’s a pretty cool bus,” Daryl mumbles, not sure how to respond to that.

 

“You really don’t have any experience with kids?”

 

“Nah,” Daryl says, frowning, not meeting her eyes. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, he adds, “Will come September, though.”

 

“What happens in September?” Soccer Mom asks, sounding like she knows what he means but doesn’t want to make the wrong assumption about such a young kid. Daryl chews on his lower lip and then whips out his phone. He pulls up the picture he sent the groupchat of the ultrasound and holds it out to Soccer Mom. 

 

“Got two lil’ ones comin’,” he explains as she takes the phone from him. 

 

“Oh my goodness, would you look at that?” Soccer Mom says with a sweet smile, eyeing the ultrasound picture. “You said two?” she asks, handing the phone back.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“That’s gonna be a handful,” she says with a laugh. “What a blessing, though. I’m sure you’ll handle it well.”

 

“Daryl?” Dr. Peterson says in the doorway. 

 

“Thanks,” Daryl mutters at Soccer Mom. He hands Ryan back his toy and ruffles his hair before going to stand and follow Dr. Peterson back to her office. He takes his usual position—edge of the chair, eyes on the floor, arms crossed.

 

“How have you been?” Dr. Peterson asks, taking her usual place as well across from him.

 

“Somethin’ really weird just happened,” Daryl says with a bemused frown, ignoring her question entirely.

 

“What was it?”

 

“I just like...talked to someone. Told her stuff about me. Like, personal stuff.”

 

“You mean the woman in the waiting room? The one with the baby?”

 

“Yeah. We was talkin’ about her kid and for some reason I just fuckin’ told her about the twins, and then I showed her an ultrasound picture I got. Oh, hey, you wanna see this ultrasound picture I got?” he asks, sidetracking himself by taking out his phone and pulling the picture back up and showing it to Dr. Peterson.

 

“Isn’t that something?” Dr. Peterson says, holding her reading glasses up to her eyes to see it. “How are they doing?”

 

“Healthy. Strong heartbeats, the doctor said,” Daryl says, pocketing his phone and going back to staring at the patterned rug on the floor. “Oh shit, I just did it again. Why the hell did I just show you that picture? I wasn’t plannin’ on it or nothin’”

 

“Maybe you’re proud of it,” Dr. Peterson suggests. “Everyone always says they’re not gonna be the type of parent that is constantly showing off pictures of their kids, and then the second they’re born it flies right out the window. I was showing pictures of my daughter to grocery store clerks.”

 

“This ain’t even a real picture, though. Can barely tell what they are.”

 

“But is it your first picture of them?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Then it’s special, wouldn’t you say?”

 

“I guess,” Daryl mutters with a shrug. 

 

“Parenthood and pride do weird things to a person. Part of you must have wanted to brag and in the moment it won out on the part of your brain that would rather sit in the corner with your mouth zipped.”

 

“Hm,” Daryl hums, drawing his brows together.

 

“So, to bring it back, how have things been going?”

 

“Had a rough weekend,” Daryl says. “Carol was in the hospital Friday night. Oh, and she asked me to murder someone yesterday.”

 

“Um, tell me about the murder thing first.”

 

“She asked me to kill her coworker ‘cause he said she didn’t look pregnant, just fat.”

 

“Oh, okay, that’s totally justified then, never mind. What about the hospital? Is she alright?”

 

“Fine, just dehydrated. That’s where that picture came from.” Daryl glances up at Dr. Peterson then, twisting his mouth. “Hey, you know things ‘bout PTSD, right? That’s shit they teach you in therapist school or whatever?”

 

“Yes, I learned about PTSD in therapist school, which is definitely what that’s called,” Dr. Peterson says with a smile. “Why do you ask?”

 

“I think Carol’s got it, but I dunno if she thinks she does, or if she’s just ignorin’ it or what.”

 

“Why do you think that?”

 

“You know how I told you her momma died last year?” Dr. Peterson nods. “She was in the hospital for a good long while before that happened, and then Carol was there in the ICU when she finally did pass. Then, ‘bout a month or so later, she had to have an appendectomy, and she  _ flipped _ the fuck out when we had to go to the hospital. She almost refused to let me take her inside. And then on Friday night the same thing happened where she was half dyin’ on our bathroom floor and it took forever to convince her to go. Her blood pressure was sky high, heart beatin’ fast, all that shit.” 

 

“And you think it’s because of what happened with her mother?”

 

“Yeah, ‘cause she always says somethin’ about how people die in hospitals, and that’s why she’s afraid of ‘em. And like, this last time she was convinced that somethin’ would be wrong with the babies since we were in the hospital. She never fully calmed down ‘til we got outta there and went home. And like, I wouldn’t give that big a shit if things was normal ‘cause then she wouldn’t gotta go that much, but she’s gonna have to give birth there.”

 

“And you’re worried she’s not going to be able to overcome her phobia and then will have trouble giving birth as a result?”

 

“Yeah, and like, ain’t that shit stressful enough? I only know so much about it, but my friend sent me this awful video of some woman havin’ a baby, and I can’t imagine goin’ through that on top of bein’ scared out of your mind ‘cause you got a problem with hospitals, you know?”

 

“I get it. And you talked to her about it?”

 

“Mhm, asked her to think about tellin’ her therapist about it.”

 

“And do you think she will? Does she have a good relationship with her therapist?”

 

“Don’t really know. She don’t talk about it much.”

 

“What does she say?”

 

“I mean...nothin’ at all, really. I’ll ask her sometimes and she’ll just say fine and change the subject.”

 

“And you’re sure she’s going?”

 

“What do you mean?” Daryl asks, frowning.

 

“I’m just wondering if you know for sure that she’s been going to therapy.”

 

“Why, you think she’s not?”

 

“I don’t know one way or another,” Dr. Peterson says honestly. “You’d know better than me.”

 

Daryl pinches his lower lip between his index finger and thumb and stares at the wall, thinking. Slowly, he shakes his head and lowers his hand.

 

“Nah, she wouldn’t lie to me about that. Not after all the shit she said to get me to go. That’d be fucked up.” 

 

“Okay,” Dr. Peterson says with a shrug. “I meant what I said. I don’t know her. It was just a question. My suggestion would be to just keep encouraging her to address it. I mean, I can’t diagnose someone I don’t know.” 

 

“Yeah, I get that,” Daryl says absently, trying hard to keep this tiny seed of an idea from getting buried in his mind. 

 

“If you’re okay with moving on, I wanted to revisit what we talked about last week after you spoke with your brother? Have you had any contact with him since?”

 

It takes Daryl a second to process that he was asked a question.

 

“Uh, no,” he says. 

 

He let’s Dr. Peterson talk at him for the rest of the session, giving one-word answers to her questions, trying to ignore the pit in his stomach until the hour is up.

 

—-

 

(5:23p) ~hey daryl, did you know that your property is listed in a ghost guide of georgia?~

 

(5:27p) -ummmm wut?-

 

(5:28p) >Oh for Christ’s sake.<

 

(5:30p) ~ _ dumbass sent a link _ ~

 

(5:30p) ~it’s way down on the list, like number 154 or something. i found it by chance when i was ignoring my history lecture by googling random shit. i remembered what you said about your basement, so i typed in your address and this popped up.~

 

(5:32p) -ummmmmmmmmmm wut?-

 

(5:34p) ~i couldn’t find many details. there were some really vague references to a death that happened near or on your property, but i’m not sure.~

 

(5:35p) -????????-

 

(5:37p) >This is boring. I’m bored.<

 

(5:39p) -y is my house on this list?-

 

(5:40p) ~i don’t know! maybe when we’re in town for spring break next week we can go do some digging in the local records at the library or something.~

 

(5:42p) >Why stop there? Why don’t we perform a seance or something in Daryl’s basement? Ask the ghost himself what his name is. Get his number. Invite him out for tacos.<

 

(5:45p) ~ooh, maybe we /could/ try to get into contact with it.~

 

(5:46p) >Ugggggggggh.<

 

(5:47p) ~although that does seem like a very “white person in a horror movie” move, so maybe let’s do some research first before we jump right in with the ouija board.~

 

(5:49p) -this does not make me happy i am unhappy-

 

(5:50p) ~it’s confined to your basement, right?~

 

(5:51p) -afaik-

 

(5:52p) ~then just avoid the basement until we can do some digging. henry will let you know if anything is up before then.~

 

(5:54p) >Unless Henry’s been the ghost this whole time! :o <

 

(5:55p) -stfu rick-

 

(5:55p) ~see if you’re laughing when we talk to this spirit.~

 

(5:56p) >Yeah, see, the problem here is that we’re never going to talk to this spirit because this spirit doesn’t exist.<

 

(5:57p) -wna bet?-

 

(5:58p) >You really want to make a bet you will definitely lose?<

 

(6:00p) ~no, but we’ll make a bet we’ll definitely win.~

 

(6:01p) >You are both idiots.<

 

(6:02p) ~sounds like something someone who’s afraid of losing would say.~

 

(6:04p) >Fine, you know what? Fuck it, I’ll play. If I win, Glenn, you have to get my name tattooed your ass, and Daryl you have a choice. You can get my name tattooed on your ass, or you can give one of the twins Rick as a middle name. Doesn’t matter if it’s a boy or girl.<

 

(6:06p) ~fine, but if we win you have to eat a bag of those sugar free gummy bears that make you shit yourself and then walk across campus in a speedo, and it has to be filmed.~

 

(6:06p) ~you game, daryl?~

 

(6:07p) -hell yeah-

 

(6:08p) ~rick?~

 

(6:09p) >This is so stupid, but yes.<

 

(6:10p) ~okay, i’ll write up a terms and conditions of the bet so we’re all in agreement on winners and losers, and then it’s on.~

 

(6:11p) ~ _ dumbass changed the group name to “Operation: Make Rick Shit Himself In Public” _ ~

 

(6:12p) >Okay, no.<

 

(6:12p) > _ grp prjct rick changed the group name to “Operation: Ass Tattoos” _ <

 

(6:13p) -jfc-

  
(6:13p) - _ you changed the group name to “team grpcht: winner take all” _ -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm starting to hate writing waiting rooms as much as daryl hates waiting in them. i did have fun writing butt plug guy, though. 
> 
> anyway, i don't have anything new to tell you. see you son sunday. penultimate episode of twd! only two more episodes until i don't have to think about this show for an entire, beautiful summer hiatus, thank god.
> 
> toodles,
> 
> -diz


	8. Hot Pockets

_ March 18th _

_ Friday _

 

(12:34p) -howd therapy go this morn?-

 

(12:37p) *Fine.*

 

(12:38p) -tlk abt nything interesting?-

 

(12:41p) *You know, just emotional trauma stuff. The usual.*

 

(12:41p) *Oh hey, so two things.*

 

(12:42p) -yeah?-

 

(12:44p) *First, that OBGYN called me back and set up and her first available appointment is Wednesday at 3p. Think Dale will let you go?*

 

(12:45p) -shud b fine-

 

(12:45p) -was thinking of telling him abt everythng b4 i left 2nite nyway so he knows y im goin 2 drs appointments so much-

 

(12:46p) *Probably a good idea. Everything I've read has said that they make you do extra checkups when you're having twins, which is grand.*

 

(12:47p) -only wut? 6ish more months?-

 

(12:48p) *A thousand skull emojis would not properly convey my feelings about that. Mb I haven't gotten to the good parts yet, but I feel like anyone who says they love being pregnant is a goddamn liar.*

 

(12:50p) -u said the 2nd trimester thing is better rite?-

 

(12:54p) *It had better be or the moment these two are out of me I'm grounding them.*

 

(12:55p) -lmao thts fair-

 

(12:55p) -wut was the other thng?-

 

(12:57p) *Ah, yeah, speaking of unpleasant things.*

 

(12:58p) - :/ -

 

(12:59p) *My aunt invited us over for dinner tomorrow. Figured it might be a good opportunity to spill the beans.*

 

(1:01p) -gr8-

 

(1:03p) *I meant what I said before, you don't have to be there for it.*

 

(1:06p) -ofc i'll b there 4 it-

 

(1:06p) -itll just b super awkward-

 

(1:06p) -she gna b mad?-

 

(1:09p) *I don't even know. Let's wait to tell her until at least her third glass of wine.*

 

(1:10p) -so like 5 min into dinner-

 

(1:14p) *Yeah, she definitely has a problem, but we've got enough of our own shit to deal with, so let's just use her casual alcoholism to our advantage, alright?*

 

(1:16p) -lol k-

 

(1:17p) -do u thnk she'll tell ur dad?-

 

(1:21p) *Not if I ask her not to.*

 

(1:23p) -u planning on telling him in person?-

 

(1:29p) *Ugh, I have no clue. Unlike with my aunt I have no doubt in my mind that he's gonna go fucking ballistic.*

 

(1:32p) -yeah hes gna try n muder me-

 

(1:35p) *You're not gonna be his favorite person, that's for sure, but I'm not gonna be either.*

 

(1:35p) *Sometimes I forget how young we are and how everyone probably thinks we're dumb idiot kids.*

 

(1:40p) -tbf we r but @ least we're p responsible dumb idiot kids-

 

(1:42p) *Except when it comes to using a condom.*

 

(1:45p) -it was 1 time-

 

(1:51p) * _ carol sent a photo _ *

 

(1:51p) *Tell that to my pregnant belly.*

 

(1:54p) -yeah ok point taken-

 

(1:54p) -did u take tht pic @ ur desk?-

 

(1:57p) *Yeah, it's a slow day. Also my coworker is doing some of my paperwork for me bc he still feels like an ass for making me cry.*

 

(2:01p) -c if i wud have murdered him u wudnt have been able 2 milk this 4 all its worth-

 

(2:05p) *As always you are very wise, my love.*

 

(2:09p) *You know what I just realized?*

 

(2:13p) -hm?-

 

(2:16p) *I'm hungry.*

 

(2:16p) *I haven't felt anything but nauseous for weeks now.*

 

(2:20p) -hey thts gud-

 

(2:22p) *Yeah except I'm hungry for something super specific but I can't figure out what it is.*

 

(2:22p) *What is it?*

 

(2:27p) -cudnt tell u bb-

 

(2:36p) *Oh my god this is driving me insane. I want it so badly but I have no idea what it even is.*

 

(2:49p) -pickles? thts a pregnancy food rite?-

 

(2:52p) *No that's not it.*

 

(2:55p) *OH SHIT.*

 

(2:55p) *Daryl I figured it out!*

 

(3:01p) -...?-

 

(3:03p) *HOT POCKETS.*

 

(3:06p) -r u fukin kidding me?-

 

(3:07p) *I want to eat an entire box of Hot Pockets like right this second.*

 

(3:11p) -how in the shit did u go from going 2 the hospital bc u cudnt even drink water 2 wanting 2 eat hot pockets?-

 

(3:11p) -u dnt even like hot pockets u give me shit every time i buy them-

 

(3:15p) *No idea but if someone handed me a gun right now and said “I'll give you Hot Pockets but first you have to murder three people execution style” I would do it. I wouldn't even hesitate, Daryl.*

 

(3:15p) *Do you think I could sneak out of work and go buy Hot Pockets?*

 

(3:17p) -bb tht shit is gna make u so sick-

 

(3:17p) -tht shit makes normal not pregnant ppl sick-

 

(3:21p) *Give me Hot Pockets or give me death, Daryl.*

 

(3:34p) -r u srs?-

 

(3:39p) *I've never been more serious about anything in my entire life.*

 

(3:39p) *Will you please make sure we have Hot Pockets at home?*

 

(3:43p) -im screenshotting tht so the next time u tell me not 2 buy thm bc they rnt real food i can use it against u-

 

(3:48p) *As long as you stock our freezer I don't even care.*

 

(3:51p) -god pregnancy is weird-

 

(3:55p) *Would you rather I be throwing up??*

 

(3:59p) -ofc not-

 

(4:03p) *Then get your girl some damn Hot Pockets.*

 

(4:03p) *And actually, not to be a stereotype, but do pick up some pickles, those would go really good together.*

 

(4:05p) -smdh-

 

(4:05p) -yes ma'am-

 

—-

 

Daryl loiters outside of Dale’s office, not entirely sure why he’s as nervous as he is, but not knowing does nothing to stem the rapid beating of his heart and the butterflies in his stomach. Likely it has something to do with the fact that Dale has been the only positive authority figure in his life maybe ever. How many people would take a look at a pathetic little boy from a shit family and think to themselves, “that kid has potential, and I want to help”? 

 

Daryl met Dale three days after his sixteenth birthday. The week prior had been a rather eventful one. First, his dad had beaten the shit out of him for forgetting to bring home a pack of smokes. Then, Merle, who had gotten arrested some time prior during a drug bust, had been officially sentenced to five years in the pen. And lastly, Daryl had gotten his driver’s and motorcycle licenses, which meant he could finally stop driving his dad’s truck illegally so that he could get to school, because lord knows no one was going to take him.

 

The day he met Dale he’d been at this very shop, eyeing a motorcycle out in front that had a “for sale” sign on it. He was wearing Mere’s old clothes, and had a faded bruise on his cheek, and Dale had come out and didn’t say a word about his appearance, and instead asked, “You ride?” 

 

“Just got my license,” Daryl had muttered, looking at his feet, but Dale eventually got him to talk. Dale split a hoagie sandwich he’d brought for lunch with him, and they’d spent the next hour talking bikes and car.

 

“Tell you what,” Dale had told him as the conversation wrapped up. “You seem to know your stuff. I need an extra pair of hands around here. Why don’t you come apprentice down at my shop, and that’ll pay off your debt.”

 

“What debt?” Daryl had asked with a furrowed brow.

 

“The bike. It’s yours.” 

 

Now that same bike sits out front of this same shop, just like it had before, only this time there’s no for sale sign on it. Dale, true to his word, had given it to him, and once he’d paid off the bike, he started earning a paycheck, and now Dale’s saving his ass yet again, giving him the money he needs to support his family, which in a few short months is going to grow by two, and he doesn’t have a clue how to tell him that he’s knocked up his girl. Dale has never seen him as a stereotype, and while Daryl would never trade Carol and the twins for anything, being a teenage dad certainly fits the white trash mold. 

 

“Get your head out of your ass,” Daryl mutters to himself after he stands outside Dale’s office for a good five minutes. He knocks on the door twice before he loses his nerve.

 

“Come in,” says Dale. Daryl swallows hard and steps inside. 

 

“Hey,” he mutters, crossing his arms and forcing himself not to look at the floor. “Can I talk to you for a sec?” 

 

“Of course. What’s up?” Dale asks, pushing some paperwork away from him. He folds his hands on top of his desk and waits patiently. Daryl bounces on the balls of his feet.

 

“Um...so remember how I told you there’s some stuff goin’ on at home?”

 

“I do. Is everything okay?”

 

“Yeah, no, everything’s good, it’s just...um...I dunno, I figured that you should know what’s happening, ‘cause...Fuck.” How is this harder than telling his own flesh-and-blood brother?

 

“Spit it out, kid. What’s eatin’ at you?” Dale asks, frowning. 

 

“My girlfriend’s pregnant,” Daryl says quietly, not able to keep eye contact any longer. He stares at the wall adjacent to Dale and waits for his disappointment. 

 

“Oh,” Dale says in surprise. “Well that’s...news.” 

 

“I’m sorry,” Daryl mutters, face hot with shame. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Dale shaking his head.

 

“Why are you sorry, son?” 

 

“I dunno, just...Don’t want you to think I’m…” he trails off. What’s the right word? Irresponsible? Stupid? Just like how everyone always assumed he was? 

 

“Hey, kid, look at me,” Dale says. With tremendous effort, Daryl does as he’s told. Dale is smiling at him the way he did when he first saw him, beat up and raggedy, and Daryl knows right then that he’s not disappointed in him at all. “Are you happy about it?” he asks.

 

Daryl realizes that’s the first time someone has asked that as their first question. Usually it’s, “What are you going to do?” Daryl bites his lip and nods.

 

“I am,” he says quietly, as though it’s something he shouldn’t admit.

 

“Well then, congratulations,” Dale says simply. 

 

“Thanks,” Daryl says, breathing a little easier. “I wanna try and make it to her doctor’s appointments if that’s okay. I’ll make up any hours I miss,” but Dale’s already waving his hand dismissively.

 

“I know you’re good for the hours, son, you do what you need to do, just give me a heads up when you know the dates. When is she due?”

 

“September, but um, might end up being late August. She might go into labor early ‘cause it’s...twins?” Daryl grimaces as he drops bomb number two.

 

“No shit?” Dale says with a disbelieving laugh. “When you get a job done you really get it done, don’t you?” 

 

“Pfft, I guess.”

 

“Is everybody healthy?”

 

“Yeah, everyone’s good. Real good.” 

 

“You still driving around in that junker Chevy?”

 

“Mhm.”

 

“That ain’t gonna work for a family of four. I’ll keep an eye out, see if I can’t find somethin’ cheap that might be a better fit.”

 

“Don’t gotta, Dale.”

 

“I know,” he says with a smile. “I care about you, Daryl. I’m gonna help you the best I can.”

 

Daryl doesn’t know how to reply to that, so he just ducks his head and nods. 

 

He’s sure that Dale understands.

 

—-

 

_ March 19 _ _   
_ _ Saturday _

 

“Okay, tell the truth, how obviously pregnant do I look in this?” Carol calls out to Daryl through a full mouth, studying herself in the bathroom mirror while holding a Hot Pocket in her hand.

 

“Did you just make a Hot Pocket right before we’re about to go eat dinner with your aunt?” Daryl asks, poking his head in the bathroom and frowning at her as she wipes sauce off the corner of her mouth.

 

“Be nice to me, these are the only things I want to eat.”

 

“Ain’t you the one always tellin’ me how much salt is in them? You’re gonna turn your amniotic fluid into nothin’ but saltwater.”

 

“Amniotic fluid? Have you been reading the pregnancy books?” she asks, smiling and then taking another bite of her Hot Pocket.

 

“Yeah, sometimes. Seriously, how are you even keeping those down?”

 

“No idea. Every other food sounds absolutely repulsive. These are better than nothing, right?”

 

“Mm.”

 

“I took my prenatal vitamin!  _ And  _ I’ve cut my coffee way down, and not a single cigarette. Let me have this for a little bit and I promise I’ll eat a vegetable eventually.” 

 

“Fine, but if the doctor tells you to cut them you gotta listen.”

 

“Whatever,” Carol says dismissively, finishing her snack in one giant bite. “You never answered my question,” she reminds him, spitting crumbs. Daryl tilts his head and looks her up and down.

 

“Shirt’s too tight,” he says. “I think she’ll notice right off the bat.”

 

“Fuck, this is getting too hard to hide.” She presses her belly as though trying to flatten it. “Tell your children to help their mom out.” 

 

“Don’t think this one is in their control, darlin’. Here, hold on.” Daryl goes to their bedroom and snags a hoodie of his that he never wears and brings it to her. “Put this on and see if it helps.”

 

Carol slips it on and zips it. It’s oversized enough to hide anything damning. 

 

“That works,” she says. She grabs it by the collar and sniffs it. “It smells like you,” she adds.

 

“Sorry?” Daryl says, not sure if that’s a good or bad thing.

 

“No, it’s a good smell,” she says, still smelling the fabric.

 

“‘Kay, that’s gettin’ kinda weird now.”

 

“Can’t help it. It smells like you and I love you.” 

 

“Um. Why do you look like you’re about to cry?” Daryl asks warily.

 

“I literally have no idea,” Carol says, letting go of the collar of the hoodie and going over to give Daryl a hug. “I just remembered how much I love you.”

 

“...Because my hoodie smells like me?”

 

“Shhh, don’t try and make it make sense,” she says, tilting her head up to kiss him. She runs her tongue over his and his hands fall to her hips. She whispers against his mouth, “What if we skipped dinner and just had sex all night long? With breaks for Hot Pockets?”

 

“You were about to cry five seconds ago, what’s happening?” Daryl asks, trying very hard not to think about how many weeks it’s been since they’ve slept together.

 

“Pregnancy. Pregnancy is happening and your hoodie is making me both emotional and super horny.”

 

“That’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever said, and that’s including all that shit you said about the Duolingo owl in high school.”

 

“C’mon,” Carol says, running her hands up his chest. “I’ll let you feel up my boobs. They’re bigger now.”

 

He’s definitely already aware of this fact, but he’s not about to say so. He takes her by the wrists and kisses her knuckles.

 

“Dinner first,” he tells her. “I don’t feel like draggin’ this out. Let’s get this over with and then if you’re still feelin’ it after then we can do whatever the hell you want.”   
  


“Are you seriously cockblocking yourself?” Carol pouts.

 

“Guess so, but we’ll feel better once we got this off our shoulders.”

 

“Ugh,” Carol says, pulling away. She turns back to the mirror. “Fine. Do I look sufficiently un-pregnant?”

 

“Yeah, I think we’re good.”

 

She stuffs her hands in the big pockets of the hoodie and sighs. “Let’s go then,” she says, sounding like he’s making her walk down death row.

 

“It’ll be fine,” Daryl assures her. “Sure, it’s a pain in the ass, but at the end of the day how bad can it be?”

 

—-

 

The answer to Daryl’s question turns out to be: Very bad.

 

Of course they have no way of knowing this ahead of time, so as they park the car and head up Carol’s aunt’s drive they’re both nervous, but not overwhelmingly so. Carol’s aunt is a fairly harmless woman, after all.

 

Which is all well and good, except when the two of them go inside—without knocking, which still feels wrong to Daryl—they are immediately met by Carol’s aunt sitting on her couch, wine glass in hand, talking to a middle-aged man and a woman at least ten years his junior.

 

With his familiar eyes and lips the same shape as Carol’s, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that the man is Carol’s father. Daryl blanches. The only conversation he’s ever had with her father was a couple of lines of text when she was in surgery for her appendectomy. He has no idea how much or how little he knows about him, but he can make a safe bet that her father is not ignorant of the rumors about Daryl’s family.

 

“Oh fuck this,” Carol says the instant she lays eyes on her father. She turns on her heel and tries to shoulder past Daryl right back out the door they just entered.

 

“Carol, sweetie, wait,” her aunt says, jumping to her feet and rushing towards them, not spilling a drop of her full wine glass in the process, which, in any other circumstance, would be impressive. Carol rounds on her aunt, jaw clenched.

 

“You tricked me,” she hisses.

 

“He wanted to talk to you, honey, and I knew you wouldn’t come if I came right out and said it.”

 

“You ever think there was a reason for that? I’m not staying here. C’mon, Daryl.” She takes him by the forearm and he’s about to let her drag him out to the car when her father speaks for the first time. 

 

“Carol,” he says firmly. “You can stay long enough to talk to me.”

 

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” Carol spits over her shoulder.

 

“Well I have something to say to you.”

 

“Text it to me. You have my number. Or maybe you don’t, since you haven’t bothered to use it since seven months ago when you needed help paying a utility bill.”

 

“Carol—”

 

“No, we’re done. Goodbye.” She grabs hold of the door handle just as her father blurts out,

 

“Carol, I’m getting married.”

 

Her hand stills. Daryl sees her steadying breath and watches her throat contract as she swallows. She shoots a brief glance at Daryl, which seems unsettlingly like a warning of the explosion that’s about to come. She turns around to face her father, anger wafting off her in waves.

 

“Excuse me?” she asks calmly.

 

“This is Maria,” Carol’s dad says, gesturing at the young woman beside him, who is wide-eyed and hunched together, like she’s trying to make herself smaller, and Daryl almost feels sorry for her, because she and him are the two outcasts in the room. 

 

“Hello, Carol,” Maria says tentatively. Daryl grimaces, knowing it’s probably in her best interest to keep her mouth shut.

 

“Nice to meet you, Maria,” Carol says sweetly. “Where’d my dad pick you up? The playground? I hope they didn’t issue an Amber alert.” 

 

“I’m twenty seven,” Maria assures Carol, as though that helps anything. Daryl wants to tell her, for her own sake, to  _ shut the fuck up _ .

 

“My mistake. Quick question, did the two of you start planning your nuptials when I was at home cleaning up after my mother shit the bed, or did you hold off on the engagement at least until most of the dirt had been scooped into her grave?”

 

“Carol, I mean no disrespect to your mother. I’m sure she was a lovely person.” 

 

Daryl pinches the bridge of his nose.

 

“No disrespect,” Carol repeats, nodding thoughtfully. “Well, as long as you meant no disrespect I’m sure my mother wouldn’t have minded my dad going balls deep in you while she rotted away into nothing.” 

 

“Carol Anne,” Carol’s aunt says sharply.

 

“Oh, my apologies,” Carol says quickly. “I meant no disrespect.”

 

“Baby, maybe we should just go,” Daryl mutters, but she holds up her hand.

 

“No no, dad wanted to have a conversation, so let’s have a conversation. You’re getting married, huh? Well con-fucking-gratulations, daddy, when’s the big day?”

 

“Carol, must you always have such a mouth on you?” her dad asks with an eye roll that makes Daryl bristle.

  
“Yes, because it’s my language that’s the problem here. Sorry, I forgot that you’re a blameless saint and I can’t do anything right.” 

 

“Carol,” Maria says, because she must have a death wish. “Don’t get the wrong idea. You father speaks very highly of you.”

 

Carol barks a laugh.

 

“Oh my god, what lies have you been spinning to this poor woman?” she says to her father. “I probably  _ breathe  _ wrong to him. Have you seriously been playing the ‘woe-is-me, my daughter doesn’t know how proud I really am of her card?’ Maria, honey, don’t let him fool you. My dad thinks I’m a worthless screw up, and he’s had no trouble letting me know.”

 

“I do not think you’re a worthless screw up,” her dad says, but his sentence doesn’t sound finished.

 

“But…?” Carol prompts.

 

“No buts, it’s just that I don’t always agree with...all of your choices.” He pointedly looks at Daryl, who turns red and looks at his shoes.

 

“Now just a minute,” Carol’s aunt starts, coming to Daryl’s defense, but Carol’s rebuttal is louder.

 

“No, don’t you  _ dare  _ look at Daryl like that,” she spits. “You don’t know the first thing about him. You don’t get to make assumptions.” 

 

“Carol, it’s fine,” Daryl mutters, but she waves a dismissive hand again.

 

“It isn’t fine at all. Dad, you seriously want to sit here and act all high and mighty, when you’re with a girl who doesn’t know any better, and thinks you’ll be loyal even though you went and fucked her while you let your daughter play nurse to your dying wife? You have no right to judge anything I do.”

 

“You’re still my daughter, Carol. I can still have expectations for you,” her father says. Daryl knows those expectations essentially amount to: Find someone with money, and remember to share with the class.

 

“Oh, we’re way past that, dad, that train has long since left the station. Hey, you wanna know something that’ll really grind your gears?”

 

“Carol,” Daryl whispers, but she ignores him. Instead, she takes hold of the zipper on Daryl’s hoodie she’s wearing and tugs it down. She opens it wide so her stomach, straining against her too-small shirt, is on full display. 

 

“Surprise!” she says. “I’m pregnant.” 

 

There is a ringing silence. Daryl wants to melt into the ground and become one with the soil. Carol’s aunt has a hand over her mouth. Maria looks like she might want to join Daryl in turning into liquid. Carol and her father are locked in a tense staring match, and everyone is waiting for one of them to break it.

 

“What do you want me to say?” Carol’s dad asks finally. Carol shrugs.

 

“Honestly? It doesn’t matter what you say, so say whatever the hell you want.”

 

“What’ll everybody think? They’re all going to know it’s  _ his _ .” Her dad says “his” like he’s some kind of disgusting beetle. 

 

“I’m not ashamed of him,” Carol says resolutely.

 

“Of course you’re not,” her dad says with another eye roll, continuing to talk like Daryl isn’t even in the room—or worse, that he  _ is _ in the room and he wants him to hear every word he has to say about him. “Is it too late to get rid of it?”

 

“I’m not having an abortion.”

 

“Adoption, then? Give it away and be rid of the whole mess. You can still come back from this, Carol. No one has to know you let a meth head turn you into a white trash whore.”

 

“ _ Shut the fuck up. _ ” 

 

Both Carol and her aunt pause mid gesture, looking like they’re about to protest. They both look at him and it’s then that Daryl realizes those words came from  _ his  _ mouth.

 

“Excuse me?” Carol’s dad says, addressing him for the first time. Daryl straightens his back and looks him dead in the eye.

 

“I don’t give a damn what you call me or think of me, but you ain’t talkin’ about Carol that way, and you sure as  _ hell  _ ain’t gonna call any child of mine a  _ mess _ .”

 

“So I’m just supposed to accept that my teenage daughter is going to live off welfare her whole life with a man who couldn’t possibly support her.”

 

“You don’t know shit—” Carol starts, but this time Daryl’s the one who cuts her off.

 

“I was there, you know,” he says calmly. “The night your wife died. I stayed up ‘til sunrise with Carol in the back of my truck ‘cause she didn’t feel like she had her daddy to lean on.

 

“And I was there every single goddamn day after that. I took her to the hospital when she needed surgery. I held her when she finally broke down with grief over her momma. Hell, I bought your dead wife a proper gravestone so Carol would never hafta look at her plot and think that woman wasn’t loved. I’ve spent the past year tryna make our house into someplace worth livin’, not for me, but for her. So you go ahead and think what you wanna think about me, but there’s only one person on this whole damn planet that needs to believe I’ll be there to do whatever I gotta for my family, and lemme tell you, that person sure as hell ain’t you.” 

 

He takes Carol’s hand and gestures at the door. She nods her head. No one stops them as they step over the threshold out into the crisp, March dusk. Before the door closes, Carol pokes her head inside briefly.

 

“By the way,” she says. “It’s twins.”

 

—-

 

Carol has a good cry in the car for a good five to ten minutes. Daryl lets her, rubbing her back until she’s cried herself out. He then puts the car in drive and peels away from the curb and they spend the rest of the ride home in silence. It’s an angry silence, but they both know it’s not directed at each other. Daryl feels spent, not used to going off like that. Usually he’d worry about having crossed a line, but it’s a testament to his love for Carol and his children that there’s not a doubt in his mind that every word he said was justified.

 

Once they get home, Daryl takes Henry outside and hooks him to his chain, and comes back in to join Carol on the couch. She’s taken off his hoodie and is sitting with her feet propped up on the coffee table, her head back against the cushion, and is absently rubbing her belly. 

 

“So that didn’t go as planned,” she says, finally breaking their silence. Daryl snorts.

 

“Nah,” he agrees. “Least we killed two birds with one stone; got your aunt and your daddy out of the way.”

 

“Killed is a good way to put it. You fucking wrecked him.”

 

Daryl casts her a sheepish glance and says, “Sorry for goin’ off on him.”

 

“Oh no, you don’t get to apologize for that, that was awesome. Besides,” she adds, nudging him in the side. “I have a feeling you really aren’t that sorry.” 

 

“I ain’t,” he admits. “He don’t get to talk about you and the babies like that. It’s like he thinks we should just throw ‘em out with the trash since they’re tainted with Dixon blood. Nuh-uh, fuck that, my kids ain’t dealin’ with that shit before they’re even out of the womb.”

 

“I love that you stand up for us,” Carol says. “Wish you’d stand up for yourself, too, though. He was way outta line with what he said about you.”

 

“I’m used to it.”

 

“But that doesn’t mean you have to take it.”

 

Daryl shrugs, suddenly very interested in a hangnail on his thumb.

 

“You do know I’ll support you the best I can, right?” he asks after a beat. “I might not never make us a million dollars, but I’ll work myself to the bone if I gotta to make sure you and these kids are taken care of. Not just that, even. I’ll make sure you’re all safe, and loved, and everything we wasn’t growin’ up.” 

 

“Never doubted it for a second,” Carol says so earnestly he has to look at her. He brushes his thumb with the fascinating hangnail over her lips and she kisses it gently.

 

“So here’s a question,” Carol says then.

 

“Hm?”

 

“Watching you defend my honor was sweet and heartwarming. It also was,” she says, putting a hand on his thigh. “Pretty hot.”

 

Daryl snorts.

 

“All’a that drama and you still got a one track mind?” he asks, but he smirks at her so she knows it’s in jest.

 

“What can I say? You’re my very attractive knight in shining armor, and also I am full of a lot of very strange hormones.” 

 

“Hm,” Daryl hums, distracted because Carol is working on undoing the button on his pants. She sinks down to the floor and gets on her knees in between his legs. He puts a hand on her shoulder. “You ain’t gotta do that, baby,” he tells her.

 

“You earned it,” she says. “And I want to. That okay?”

 

Well, it’s not like he’s going to say  _ no _ .

 

He gives a miniscule nod and inhales sharply, letting his hand fall to the side, as Carol frees him from his jeans and boxers and takes him into her mouth. It took him a while to get used to this. He wasn’t so sure about it in the beginning—having the focus be on him made him self-conscious—but, as she is wont to do, she’s managed to curb his anxiety, and now he can turn his brain off enough to enjoy himself.

 

Nearly a year’s worth of practice together has gotten them attuned to each other to the point that she knows exactly what to do to get him close to the edge. For several minutes she sucks him off perfectly, to the point that he’s not going to be able to hold back much longer.

 

“Stop stop stop,” he mumbles. Carol pulls off of him with an obscene pop and looks at him expectantly.

 

“Wanna be able to have you,” he explains, and she grins. She gets to her feet and holds out her hand.

 

“Take me to bed, then,” she says.

 

He takes her hand in his and happily obliges.

 

—-

 

_ March 21st _

_ Monday _

 

_ Rules of the Team Groupchat Bet: _

 

 

  * __Evidence cannot be fabricated__


  * _Glenn and Daryl have until the end of summer vacation to prove the existence of The Basement Ghost to Rick_


  * _When presented with evidence Rick can’t be like “sorry, I wasn’t looking so it doesn’t count.” Lies don’t make friends, Grimes_


  * _In order for Daryl and Glenn to win, Rick must witness tangible proof of a spirit. Proof includes: indisputable ouija board contact, indisputable voice contact, any sort of physical sighting_


  * _If none of the aforementioned instances of proof occur by the time Glenn, Rick, or both go back to school in August, Rick wins_


  * _In the unlikely event of Rick winning, Glenn must get “RICK” tattooed on one buttcheek, and Daryl has the choice of getting a “RICK” buttcheek tattoo, or can give one of his twins the middle name of Rick_


  * _In the likely event of Daryl and Glenn winning, Rick must consume an entire bag of sugar free gummy bears and then walk from one end of campus to the other in nothing but a speedo, and it must be filmed_


  * _Violation of any of the rules can render the bet null and void_



 

 

“Take out the ‘unlikely event’ and ‘likely event’, rules are supposed to be objective, dickweed,” Rick says, scanning the paper Glenn has put in the middle of their table at the library.

 

“Whatever, Daryl and I will know the truth in our hearts,” says Glenn, making edits with a pink, glitter gel pen.

 

“Why the fuck are you using that pen?” asks Daryl.

 

“My niece was over for dinner last night and stuffed a bunch of her gel pens in my backpack. Don’t be jealous.” 

 

“I’ll try not to,” Daryl mutters with an eye roll.

 

“Okay, so you dragged us to the library for this stupid thing. Where do we start?” asks Rick.

 

“I called last week and asked them if they had any archives of the town’s history, and they have a whole section with old newspapers and criminal records in their reference section, so I figured we’d start there,” Glenn says.

 

“You know there’s this thing called the internet now?” Daryl says. “Let’s you get information real quick without havin’ to dig through a million old newspapers.”

 

“I already tried Googling stuff, smartass, and I came up with a few things to narrow down our search, but nothing definitive. Hold on, let me get my notes.” He searches through his backpack, pulling out a toy feathered boa, a plastic tea cup, and three more glitter pens, before finding a notebook and plopping it on the table.

 

Daryl and Rick stare at him.

 

“The fuck?” Daryl asks finally.

 

“We were playing tea party and this was my pretend purse,” Glenn says nonchalantly, flipping through his notebook until he finds the page he’s looking for. “Okay, here’s what I found out about your house, Daryl. Your house isn’t the original, there was one that was built in 1926, but something happened to it in 1969—”

 

“Nice,” says Rick. 

 

“Anyway,” Glenn says, high fiving Rick. “There weren’t any details on it. All I could find was retail details, so I don’t know why it was rebuilt, but I was thinking that maybe it’s possible that the basement is part of the original infrastructure? Maybe that’s why it’s confined to the basement, because whatever happened to it happened in the old house and the basement is the only thing that’s left from it.”

 

“Ugh, I hate this,” Daryl says, shuttering. “Fuck ghosts, man.”

 

“I know, but our asses are at stake, now.”

 

“‘Kay, so what are we lookin’ for, then?”

 

“Something vague that we can shape into evidence to encourage you two to keep being ridiculous,” says Rick.

 

“Shut up,” Glenn says, and then to Daryl, he says, “I think the logical place to start would be looking through the archives for ‘69 and seeing if we can find anything that would explain what happened to the house.”

 

Daryl nods and Rick rolls his eyes. Glenn beckons them to follow him and he leads them to the reference section. After some searching, they come to a shelf that’s full, top to bottom, with old town records. They all scan the rows.

 

“There,” Daryl says, pointing at one of the rows near the top. “These are from ‘65-’70.” 

 

“Jesus Christ, they’re the size of fucking encyclopedias,” Rick groans.

 

“Help me get them down,” Glenn says. Trying not to topple over, they pull three volumes of town records off the shelf. Each carrying one, they go back to their table.

 

“Mine is criminal records,” Rick says, checking the spine.

 

“Local news clippings,” Daryl reads.

 

“Births, marriages, and obituaries,” Glenn says of his.

 

“So basically it could be any one of these and each one covers five years worth of material?” Rick asks flatly.

 

“Yes,” Glenn says. “So start reading.”

 

Grumbling, Rick cracks his open. Glenn and Daryl do the same. The pages of the books are yellowing and smell like dust and age. Daryl skims the first headline on the page.

 

“‘Civil Rights Movement Aims to Kill Traditional American Values; Locals Calling It an Act of Terrorism,’” he reads aloud, frowning. 

 

“Great,” Rick says, as Glenn grimaces and says, “Yikes.” 

 

“Sounds like somethin’ my brother would write,” Daryl mutters. He sighs, “Whatever. Let’s just fuckin’ read. Carol wants y’all to come over for dinner, and she’s off work in an hour or so.”

 

“We’re gonna spend our entire spring break reading these stupid things, aren’t we?” Rick says, flipping through his book, sneering at the page. “You better know I’m only doing this so I can have the pleasure of knowing my name is on your asses forever. You know they’ve found ancient mummies that still have recognizable tattoos? Imagine the archeologist digging up your guys’ bodies.”

 

“I’m more excited for the viral video of you shitting yourself on campus,” Glenn says, flipping Rick the bird.

 

“Shut up and read, dipshit,” says Rick. They all turn to their books in begrudging silence, nothing but the sounds of their occasional turning of a page, and Glenn taking notes with his pink, sparkly pen.

 

“Oh, by the way,” Daryl says after a while, suddenly remembering. “You guys are cool with Hot Pockets, right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha tonight's episode is supposed to a cry fest. as carol would say, a thousand skull emojis would not properly convey my feelings about that.
> 
> anyway, hi friends, in the interest of full transparency, i am going through a bit of an intense depressive episode, and i want to make sure i'm doing this justice, so i think i'm gonna give myself thursday off and just give you an extra long chapter on sunday, for the sake of my brain. forgive me, my loves.
> 
> see you in a week, assuming i survive this episode.
> 
> laterz,
> 
> -diz


	9. My Children

_ March 22nd _

_ Tuesday _

 

Daryl sits in his therapist’s waiting room doodling little cartoon dogs all over the paperwork he’s not sure why the receptionist still gives him because he never turns it in. He hears the pitter patter of tiny feet and feels a little silly at how quickly he looks up to greet his small friend.

 

“Hey, lil’ dude,” Daryl says to Ryan, who comes right up to him when he sees him. Daryl holds out his fist. “Remember this?” 

 

In response, Ryan takes his pudgy little fist and bumps it against Daryl’s with a giggle, and Daryl grins.

 

“He’s been doing that to everyone since you taught him that last week,” Soccer Mom says with a long-suffering shake of the head as she sits down her ridiculous amount of  _ things _ . Do all parents carry that much stuff with them everywhere? Daryl wonders. If so, how is he going to manage carrying around that much, times two?

 

“Sorry,” Daryl says sheepishly, letting Ryan take his pen from him and draw scribbles next to his own doodles.

 

“Don’t apologize, he loves it,” says Soccer Mom, taking a seat and letting out a heavy sigh.

 

“You okay?” Daryl asks her.

  
“Fine. Just tired. He runs me ragged sometimes. For such a small person he sure has a lot of energy.”

 

“Dog,” Ryan says, tugging on Daryl’s sleeve and pointing at one of his scribbles. “You drawed dog and I drawed dog.” 

 

Daryl’s getting better at understanding toddler speak.

 

“Yours is way better than mine, bud,” Daryl says, clapping him on the back. Ryan beams.

 

“How’s your, er...wife? Girlfriend…?” Soccer Mom fumbles.

 

“Girlfriend,” Daryl says, saving her. “She’s good.” 

 

“Everything’s alright with the pregnancy, then?”

 

“Mhm. Finally stopped puking so much.” Daryl frowns. “Sorry. Pro’ly TMI, huh?”

 

“Oh God no, I remember that all too well, believe me. I spent my whole first six months with my head in the toilet.”

 

“That sucks,” Daryl says lamely.

 

“Definitely not planning on doing it again any time soon,” Soccer Mom agrees. She gives a tired smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and for the first time since he started coming to therapy he wonders what she’s here for.

 

“Daryl?” Dr. Peterson is at the door. She looks down at Ryan and says cheerfully, “How nice of you to do Daryl’s paperwork for him, little guy.” She gives Daryl a pointed look, and he shrugs.

 

“Can’t turn it in, it’s got scribbles on it,” he says, getting to his feet.

 

“Pretty advanced drawings for a toddler, those dog doodles,” Dr. Peterson says. Daryl shrugs again and casts a quick wave to Soccer Mom and Ryan.

 

They get to the office. Edge of the seat. Crossed arms. Eyes on the floor. Dr. Peterson in the seat across.

 

“How’ve you been this past week?” she asks.

 

“Fine,” Daryl says. “Friends are in town.”

 

“Are these the friends you called ‘a dumbass who can’t text right’ and ‘the wannabe cop you never would’ve thought to give the time of day?’”

 

“Glenn and Rick, yeah.”

 

“How long are they here?”

 

“Rick goes back Saturday and Glenn goes on Sunday.”

 

“Got any plans?”

 

“Mostly just the ghost stuff.”

 

“Sorry?”

 

“Oh yeah, I didn’t tell you about that, sorry. A ghost lives in my basement but Rick doesn’t believe me so Glenn and I bet him we could prove it by the end of the summer ‘fore they go back to school next fall.”

 

“What happens if you win?”

 

“Rick has’ta eat these sugar-free gummy bears that I guess make you shit yourself or somethin’ and then walk across his campus in a speedo.”

 

“Creative. Your idea?”

 

“Nah, Glenn’s. I ain’t good at thinkin’ up shit like that.”

 

“What if you lose?”

 

“Glenn has’ta get Rick’s name tattooed on his ass, and I got a choice to either do that or give one of the twins the middle name of Rick.”

 

“What’s Carol think of that?”

 

“I ain’t told her. Hopefully never will.”

 

“Smart man. How’s she doing?”

 

“She’s eaten five boxes of Hot Pockets since Friday ‘cause it’s the only food in the world that she wants, ‘though we got a doctor’s appointment with an OB-G-whatever the other letters are, and she’ll pro’ly tell her to eat somethin’ that has at least  _ a _ nutrient in it. Oh, also I met her dad on accident this weekend and told him to shut the fuck up to his face. But yeah, I guess things have been alright.” 

 

“You’ve got a knack for burying the lede, you know that?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Never mind. Tell me more about what happened with Carol’s dad.”

 

“I dunno, whaddya want me to tell you? He showed up at Carol’s aunt’s place where we was s’posed to have dinner and spill the beans about the twins, and he brought some chick with him who is like, way too young for him, and they’re gettin’ hitched, which made Carol go off, and then he went off, and then he said some stuff that made me mad, so I went off too. Dunno much about family dinners, but from what I hear about ‘em it seemed pretty run-of-the-mill.”

 

“What did he say to make you go off?”

 

“I dunno. Stuff.”

 

“Like…?”

 

“You know, dumb stuff, like that I’m a meth head that turned his daughter into a whore or whatever, and that we should give the babies up so she can get away from me and go get with a guy who’s worth his salt. Just things like that.”

 

“How’d that make you feel?”

 

Daryl casts a quick glare up at her.

 

“No,” he says flatly. Dr. Peterson holds her hands up in surrender.

 

“Sorry sorry, forgot who I was talking to. Did Carol get mad about your outburst?” 

 

“Pfft, no, she was so happy about it that she...uh. No, she wasn’t mad.”  

 

“He certainly didn’t have flattering things to say, that’s for sure.”

 

“The thing that pissed me off the most was what he said about the twins. Like, he can say what he wants about me, and what he said about Carol was outta line but she can handle herself, but he don’t get to talk about my babies like that, you know? Like, I get it’s shit that they got Dixon in ‘em, but that ain’t their fault.” 

 

“You’ve got Dixon in you, too.”

 

“Obviously.”

 

“Are you a bad person because of the family you have?”

 

“Well, it ain’t a good family.”

 

“That’s not what I asked. Her dad called you a meth head, right? Are you?”

 

“No, ‘course not. I don’t fuck with the stuff.”

 

“But it sounds like that’s part of the Dixon reputation, so why aren’t you?”

 

“‘Cause I don’t wanna fuck up my life? Are you tryna make me smoke dope? ‘Cause I ain’t doin’ that.”

 

“No I’m not trying to—here, let’s look at it this way. Would it be fair to say that Carol’s dad is a bit of a...dick?”

 

Daryl smiles a little.

 

“More than a bit.”

 

“But Carol’s not, right?”

 

“No, ‘course she ain’t.”

 

“But she’s got her father’s blood.”

 

“But she’s her own person. She’s smart. She knows what’s shitty and what’s not.”

 

“So she chooses to be a good person?”

 

“I mean, yeah, I guess.”

 

“Even though her dad isn’t one?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Now your family has some history of bad behaviors, but you choose not to do them, right?”

 

“...Okay, yeah?”

 

“So what if it’s not so much the blood or the name that makes you, but the person you decide to be? If that were the case, what difference would it make if your kids are Dixons or not?”

 

“It wouldn’t.”

 

“Because…?”

 

“...’Cause the problem ain’t the Dixon part, it’s the people who happen to be ‘em.”

 

“You think maybe that means Dixon isn’t a name to be ashamed of?”

 

“I mean, they’re still all shitty rednecks.”

 

“No they aren’t,” Dr. Peterson says. At Daryl’s furrowed brow she says, “I’m looking at one right now that isn’t.”

 

Daryl chews his bottom lip and says nothing.

 

“I also have a hunch,” Dr. Peterson continues. “That in a few months there will be two more Dixons who won’t fit that mold at all.”

 

Daryl looks up from the floor and blinks a few times in thought.

 

“I want my babies to like themselves,” he says quietly. Dr. Peterson nods.

 

“Then maybe it’s time to start leading by example,” she says.

 

—-

 

_ March 23rd _

_ Wednesday _

 

“I have questions but I’m too awkward to ask ‘em so I wrote them down so you could,” Daryl says, handing Carol a crumpled piece of paper he produces from his pocket.

 

It’s the day of their first OB-GYN appointment. (Obstetrician gynecologist, Carol finally explained to him.) The doctor they’re here to meet is apparently of high demand, really knows her shit. She usually takes a limited number of patients, but Carol’s boss knows her personally and was able to pull some strings, and so here they are.

 

Waiting room 700 billion.

 

The walls are a pale pink, and the magazines here are either about parenting or are yellowing copies of  _ Women’s Health _ . There is a heavily pregnant woman leafing through one of them, while a man in a suit sits beside her typing on a tablet with a portable keyboard. There’s a woman by herself whose about Carol and Daryl’s age, and she keeps glancing around the room nervously. A baby starts crying and Daryl swears all the women in the room practically stand at attention, Carol included, until his mother starts nursing him and he quiets down. 

 

He feels deeply out of place. 

 

“Jesus Christ,” Carol says, uncrumpling the paper he gave her and skimming over the full page (with some on the back) of questions. 

 

“Thought we should know that shit,” Daryl says sheepishly. “Some of it is things I googled but wasn’t too clear on.”

 

Daryl’s list reads as follows:

 

 

  * __So cat litter is bad for some reason. Are dogs okay?__


  * _How do 2_ _babys_ _babies come out like how is it different and is it more dangerous?_


  * _Do we gotta go to one of them classes?_ _Lamass_ _Lamawz_ _Lamaze? What does lamaze even mean?_


  * _How many Hot Pockets is too many Hot Pockets for a pregnant woman?_


  * _Ask her if sex is safe but don’t make me make eye contact with her when you do plz_


  * _When do we know if the kids are identical or not?_


  * _What are bad things that we should call the doc about cuz everything about pregnancy so far is weird as fuck so how do we know if something weird is like bad weird does that make sense?_


  * _Is there something that can teach me about babies cuz I don’t really know shit about babies?_


  * _Is there stuff I can do to help all 3 of y’all be safe?_



 

 

“I been tryna do some research in my free time, but there’s so much stuff. I don’t know where to start, you know?” Daryl says when she folds the list, neatly this time, and holds it in her lap.

 

“Yeah, I still haven’t read much further in the book ‘cause it was starting to overwhelm me,” Carol says. “We’ll figure it out as we go, right?”

 

Daryl gives a nervous huff and says, “Don’t got a whole lotta choice.” Being here is making him feel weird. Every other doctor’s appointment has been entirely about making sure Carol and the twins are healthy, but this is more than that. This is the meeting with the doctor that’s gonna help them bring two actual, living, breathing human beings into the world, and the implications of that are nerve-wracking.

 

How can he keep getting blindsided by the fact that Carol’s pregnant? It’s like every time he thinks he’s finally processed the concept of being a father, something new makes his brain go, “bitch, you thought.”

 

“Carol?” a nurse calls out then. The two of them stand and Daryl’s eyes fall to Carol's belly. She’s not gigantic by any means, but she’s definitely gotten past the “maybe it’s just bloating” stage into looking properly pregnant. Glenn and Rick both commented on it when they came over, and Daryl has noticed of course, but he sees her every day so the transition is less extreme. But as he’s looking now, in this room full of pregnant women and new mothers and nursing babies, he feels like he’s seeing her as pregnant for the first time—like that ultrasound picture he’s made his phone background and her growing belly are finally interlinked in his brain.

 

Not the time for such musings, of course, so instead he follows Carol and the nurse into an examination room that’s full of posters about fetal development, and pamphlets about breastfeeding, none of which really curbs his anxiety.

 

They’ve become pros at this by now. The nurse runs through Carol’s medical history—only this time they need Daryl’s, too, because, he realizes with that same blindsided feeling, his DNA is a part of this. Then, the nurse checks Carol’s vitals, asks about general concerns, and says, “The doctor will be here in a minute,” which usually means ten minutes minimum.

 

After the nurse leaves, Daryl notices Carol squinting at something on the wall with a wary expression, and he turns to see what she’s looking at and sees it’s a giant poster of an internal diagram showing a full-term baby.

 

“Check that out. All her organs look squished and there’s no room left  _ anywhere _ , and that’s only  _ one _ baby,” Carol says. “How the hell will two fit in here?” She points at her bump with a frown.

 

“Write it on the list,” Daryl says, ‘cause he has no clue. “Wasn’t there that one lady a long time ago that had eight babies?”

 

“Octomom. Oh God, I can’t even imagine.”

 

“That’s so many babies.”

 

“How about whenever one of us gets freaked out about having two we’ll just remind each other that we should be thankful that it’s not eight.”

 

“I barely even really know eight people. And I only talk to three, not counting coworkers and shit.” 

 

“More kids than we have friends, that’s kind of sad.”

 

“We only got two, though,” Daryl reminds her. She nods her head resolutely.

 

“Only two,” she agrees.

 

The door opens then and the doctor comes in. She’s a short, brown woman in a lab coat, carrying a clipboard because, Daryl’s convinced, half of all doctors’ budgets go towards clipboards and printer costs.

 

“Hello, Carol, I’m Dr. Al-Hadid, pleasure to meet you,” she says with a warm smile, shaking Carol’s hand. “And are you the father? Daryl?” she asks him, glancing down at her papers.

 

“Yeah,” Daryl mutters. He gives her an awkward handshake because he doesn’t know how to give one any other way, and then settles himself in to be a silent observer.

 

“I received the releases you faxed over, so I was able to obtain your medical records from your previous doctors’ visits,” Dr. Al-Hadid says, flipping through pages on her clipboard and skimming. “Tell me if I am incorrect, but the things of note appear to be the good CVS results, a couple healthy ultrasounds, and your brief hospital admission last week for, what was it...ah yes, dehydration. Oh, and then of course the obvious, which is that you’re having twins. Bet that was a bit of a shock, yes?”

 

“A bit,” Carol says with a snort. Dr. Al-Hadid gives her a kind nod. She takes a seat on a stool and regards them both.

 

“Alright, now, tell me about yourselves,” she instructs, crossing her arms.

 

“Um, what about us?” Carol asks. The doctor shrugs.

 

“You are in your third month of pregnancy, correct? That means we have six more months, plus any postpartum visits, to spend together. This is one the most personal experiences of your lives that I’m going to be a part of, and it is my philosophy that in order for this to be a positive relationship I need to know who I’m working with.”

 

Daryl exchanges a glance with Carol. He can already tell why this doctor is in high demand.

 

“You have to ask a more specific question first,” Carols tells her.

 

“How about you start by telling me how you’re feeling about this pregnancy?”

 

“I mean...good? I guess?” Carol says with a bemused frown.

 

“When I read your chart, Carol, I see a very young woman who went to great and expensive lengths to find out if her twins inherited a rare genetic disorder. I want to know the motivations behind that.”

 

“I...wanted the babies but didn’t want them to have to live with Huntington’s. It was just what I had to do in order to take care of my children,” says Carol, and that is perhaps the most transparent Daryl has ever seen her be with someone new. 

 

“Alright. And what about you, Daryl?” Dr. Al-Hadid asks, startling him. 

 

“Hm?” he asks, suddenly under the spotlight.

 

“How are you feeling about this pregnancy?”

 

“Um,” Daryl starts, looking to Carol for help.

 

“I get the impression you’re not a big talker,” Dr. Al-Hadid says, looking him over in a way that makes him feel very  _ seen _ . “I am always glad when my women have partners, whether romantic or otherwise. I ask a lot out of these partners, because having a baby is a very hard thing to do. Of course that means that having two is even harder. Are you prepared to be her support through this?” She’s not being offensive, just frank, but Daryl feels the need to defend himself anyway.

 

“I’m quiet, ma’am, but I’m listening. I know it’s hard and I wanna be there for my girl and there for my kids, ‘cause them three are the ones that matter the most to me. So tell me what I gotta do and I’ll do it.” He glances over and sees Carol smiling at him. He turns back to Dr. Al-Hadid, who stares him down another beat and then gives one solid nod.

 

“Okay. Good. Then let’s get to work,” she says.

 

Daryl learns very quickly that Dr. Al-Hadid is not going to let him get away with hiding in the corner. Everything she tells Carol she makes sure he hears too. When it comes to asking questions, she doesn’t let Carol read his list for him. 

 

“Carol is the one doing the hard part, and the two of us are just here to get her through it. You and I have to be able to dialogue so we can make sure we’re on the same page to make this as easy on her as possible,” she says, and it’s not like he can argue against that, so in a quiet voice he reads off his list, feeling like he’s being forced to answer a question in class. To her credit, she never once gives him a hard time for his shyness. She doesn’t expect more from him than is reasonable, and Daryl can respect that. And she doesn’t for one second make him feel like any of his questions are silly—not even the Hot Pocket one.

 

“You skipped over one,” Carol tells him when he gets to the end of the list. He casts her a glare and she smirks in response. He’d skipped that one purpose, thank you very much. With a tremendous sigh, he fixes his eyes to the wall behind the doctor, and mumbles, face scarlet,

 

“Is it okay that we’ve still been havin’ sex?”

 

Dr. Al-Hadid doesn’t even blink. 

 

“Completely fine, healthy even, as long as you use your common sense about it. If sex becomes painful, or something feels off, then definitely let me know, but right now I don’t see why I should put any restrictions on your sexual activity.”

 

“‘Kay...cool,” Daryl says, sort of wanting to die. But the doctor’s right—this isn’t about him, or even about her, but about Carol, and if supporting her means keeping his head out of his ass long enough to ask if he’s still allowed to fuck his girlfriend, then so be it. No matter how he spins it, Carol’s the one with the raw end of the deal, and he can suck it up.

 

“So let’s talk birth, Carol,” Dr. Al-Hadid says once they’ve covered the basics of pregnancy. When Daryl had asked about how twins are born she told him to bookmark it and she’d come back to it. Carol drums her fingers against the table.

 

“I was really hoping we could maybe skip that part and just go straight into child rearing,” she says. Dr. Al-Hadid gives her a sympathetic smile.

 

“It’s scary, I get that, but what I always tell my patients is to remember that everyone that’s ever existed had to be born. It's not new, and you'll get through it.”

 

“How much does it really hurt?” Carol asks, cracking her knuckle. Daryl tries not to think of the screaming woman in the birth video Glenn made him watch.

 

“We're not going to talk about it in terms of pain,” Dr. Al-Hadid says. “Is it gonna hurt? Yeah. It's gonna hurt. You already knew that, so let's focus on how we can make it a positive experience for you to the best of our ability.

 

“Now, since you're having twins, things are going to be different. Daryl, you asked how twins are born, and the answer is the same way one baby is born, just with more caution. There is a higher risk of emergency C-section with twins, so you're going to be giving birth in the operating room.”

 

“The operating room?” Carol asks, the unsteadiness in her voice so subtle that only Daryl would be able to catch it.

 

“Just as a precaution. I myself prefer to exhaust every option to ensure a vaginal birth before resorting to a C-section, but sometimes it's a necessity.”

 

“What about them pain meds? How do those work?” Daryl asks.

 

“To administer an epidural we'll have to insert a needle into the spine and place a small catheter that the drugs will go through. It then numbs the lower half of the body.”

 

Carol actually shudders.

 

“Do I have to do that?” she asks. Daryl gives her a bemused frown she doesn't see. Would she rather  _ not _ have it?

 

“No,” Dr. Al-Hadid says calmly. “But we may still insert the catheter in case we need to perform an emergency C-section. Is there any particular reason you don't want medication?”

 

“I just...the idea of not being able to move…”

 

Oh. Daryl gets it now. For someone with a phobia of hospitals what could be worse than literally being trapped in one because you can't feel your legs?

 

“Carol, should we tell her about the hospital thing?” Daryl asks quietly. She shoots him a look.

 

“What hospital thing?” Dr. Al-Hadid asks. 

 

“Nothing,” Carol says flatly. The doctor raises her eyebrow.

 

“I want to cater your birth to your wants and needs, Carol, but in order to do that I'll need some transparency.”

 

Carol rolls her eyes at the ceiling.

 

“I just...I don't like hospitals.”

 

“Why not?”

 

She looks at her lap and shrugs.

 

“I spent a lot of time in one last year with my mom when she died and it fucked me up. I can handle it, though.”

 

“Okay, so there's some trauma here, that's good to know. Are you seeing anyone for your PTSD?”

 

“Yeah, I see a therapist.”

 

She says it with confidence, but Carol also could be a pro poker player if she wanted to, and Daryl isn't sure what to think

 

“But you're still wary?”

 

“I'll be fine.”

 

“That's not what I asked.”

 

“I mean, I'd rather not be in a hospital, but it doesn't sound like I have a choice.”

 

“No, but we can try and make it more comfortable for you. This is good information for me to have, Carol, don't be embarrassed for telling me.”

 

“Whatever,” she mutters to her lap.

 

“As we get closer we'll come up with a birth plan. For now, your homework is to think of things that might help aide you in being okay with a hospital setting, alright.”

 

Carol and Daryl both nod.

 

Dr. Al-Hadid goes through some more information, gives them resources, does a physical exam (no ultrasound today, much to Daryl's disappointment), and schedules them out for four weeks.

 

“Your 20 week scan,” she says. “We might be able to tell the sexes of the twins if you decide you want to know.”

 

She tells them not to hesitate to call with any questions or concerns, and sends them on their way with another awkward handshake, on Daryl's end at least, and a genuine, “It was nice to meet you, I look forward to our time together.”

 

Once they're back in the car it takes Carol all of five seconds to round on Daryl and ask, “Why the hell did you tell her that?”

 

He blinks.

 

“Tell her what? About the hospital thing?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“'Cause it's somethin’ she needed to know, Carol.”

 

“I could have handled it by myself.”

 

“But she can make it better so you don't gotta spend your whole labor freaking out about hospitals while tryna get two whole people outta you at the same time.”

 

“I don't need help,” she says stubbornly, crossing her arms like a pouting child. Daryl huffs a laugh and forces her to let him take her hand.

 

“Maybe not, but it's okay to let people give you it now and again.”

 

“Pot kettle,” she mutters. He leans over and kisses her frown.

 

“We'll both work on it,” he says softly against her mouth. He leans back to smile at her. “You're stubborn as all get out, you know that, right?”

 

“Shut up,” she says, but her hackles are lowering. She sits back in her seat with a sigh. “I guess we're really having babies.”

 

“You got that weird realness feeling too, huh?”

 

“Sure do.”

 

“I like her, though. Think she'll be good. Gets us both to talk, and that ain't no easy task. Thank your boss for me.”

 

“I will. I like her, too.” She opens and closes the glove box mindlessly. “We should probably start preparing, shouldn't we? What we need, where everything's gonna go, how much it'll cost. Plus, I really need new clothes, even my fat pants are getting too tight.”

 

“I'll do some number crunching; see what we got to spend.”

 

“The answer is probably three dollars.”

 

“Please, we at least have five.” Carol rolls her eyes at him, but she’s smiling. “You can make a week's worth of meals off of thirty bucks. If anyone can figure out how to stretch three dollars it's us.” He squeezes her hand. “We'll be good, sweetheart, I'm feeling good about this.”

 

“That's good, because I'm terrified.”

 

“Well, I'm that, too, but I don’t see why I can’t be both.”

 

That earns him a laugh.

 

“I guess I better suck it up,” she says. “It only gets more real from here.”

 

He nods in agreement.

 

It’s definitely getting real.

 

—-

 

(5:19p) -we met our new dr n shes cool but now i keep thinkin abt how it feels like its actually happening now-

 

(5:20p) -bbies guys-

 

(5:23p) >Yep, you guys are gonna be parents.<

 

(5:25p) ~to be honest, it /is/ super weird to think about still. daryl the dad.~

 

(5:26p) -aksgjska-

 

(5:26p) -whenever we go c a new dr they always ask me if im the father n it always makes me anxious-

 

(5:26p) -father is such a idk. word?-

 

(5:29p) ~it is a word, yes.~

 

(5:30p) -stfu u kno wut i mean-

 

(5:31p) >What's Carol's actual due date?<

 

(5:32p) -sep 17th but the dr said she wnts to get us 2 aug 27th n after tht she can have the bbies whenever w/out her worrying abt them bein early-

 

(5:36p) >That's like, a little over five months.<

 

(5:37p) ~that seems sooner than it should be.~

 

(5:40p) -rite? i feel like i need @ least a yr 2 prepare-

 

(5:42p) ~did the doctor tell you if they're identical or fraternity.~

 

(5:43p) >Yeah, are they fraternity bros? Gonna come out of the womb and drink from a keg instead of nursing?<

 

(5:44p) ~context. clues.~

 

(5:44p) >Turn off. Autocorrect.<

 

(5:45p) -she said she didnt kno 4 sure but tht they dnt share a idk how 2 spell it but the sack thing so tht means its a higher chance of them bein fraternal-

 

(5:46p) ~good, then maybe you won't have to worry about accidentally mixing them up and making them live with the wrong identity forever.~

 

(5:47p) -tlkin 2 u raises my anxiety like by 80%-

 

(5:47p) -kno wut else makes me anxious?-

 

(5:48p) >Everything?<

 

(5:48p) ~everything?~

 

(5:49p) -fuk off-

 

(5:49p) -i mean tru but fuk off-

 

(5:49p) -$ tho. $ is making me anxious-

 

(5:50p) -i googled it n parents w/ 1 bb spend $150 a month on diapers which means $300 a month for us which means $3600 a yr lol nope fuk tht-

 

(5:52p) ~yikes.~

 

(5:52p) >Good thing you guys aren't smoking anymore. You can pay for some of those with your cigarette money.<

 

(5:53p) ~you could use cloth diapers. that's what my youngest sister does. she's the whole foods one. she's into all this hippie shit and natural birth and co-sleeping and stuff.~

 

(5:54p) >She's not an antivaxer right?<

 

(5:55p) ~no she's a hippie but she's not that stupid.~

 

(5:55p) ~but she's the one we're babysitting for on saturday, daryl, so you and carol should ask her about that crap.~

 

(5:57p) -natural birth is w/out meds rite? cuz ig carol wants 2 do tht-

 

(5:58p) >God why? After watching that video I can't imagine voluntarily doing that without medication.<

 

(5:59p) -she dsnt like feeling out of control i think-

 

(6:00p) ~my sister can and will go on and on about the benefits of natural birth if you let her so feel free to ask her any questions, but don't do it if you have somewhere to be soon because it's impossible to get her to shut up~

 

(6:01p) ~oh by the way, daryl, i got us a baby to watch along with my nephew.~

 

(6:02p) -uhhh wut?-

 

(6:03p) >Glenn did you steal a baby?<

 

(6:04p) ~no! but my nephew is almost two so he's not gonna teach you infant skills, but my cousin just had a baby and i told her i have two dumb expectant parents that need the help and offered her the night off in exchange for borrowing her son.~

 

(6:05p) >She's letting you just...borrow her son?<

 

(6:06p) ~it’s her fourth kid and she knows i'm good with them. she basically was like “please take him”.~

 

(6:07p) -a bb n a toddler?-

 

(6:08p) ~you say that like you aren't having twins. it'll be good for you to practice multitasking.~

 

(6:09p) >Man, I'm bummed I'm going back to Atlanta Saturday morning. I would kill to watch this.<

 

(6:11p) -stfu rick-

 

(6:11p) -we can do it rite its just little kids how hard can it b?-

 

(6:12p) >Rofl, definitely screenshotting that. Glenn, please give me to the minute updates on how this goes.<

 

(6:13p) ~duh.~

 

(6:14p) - :/ -

 

(6:14p) -w/e r we all still goin 2 the $5 theater after carol gets off work?-

 

(6:15p) ~yep.~

 

(6:15p) >What's playing again?<

 

(6:16p) -jaws 2 a documentary abt how seaworld is killing dolphins n fight club-

 

(6:17p) ~i am extremely torn between watching fight club because it's good and jaws 2 because it is not and we can make fun of it.~

 

(6:19p) -we'll take a poll-

 

(6:20p) >Works for me. See you guys at 7?<

 

(6:21p) -mhm-

 

(6:21p) ~yep, see you then.~

 

—-

 

_ March 26th _

_ Saturday _

 

“Come in come in come in!” Glenn’s sister says with a big smile as she opens the door to Carol and Daryl hovering awkwardly on her small brick stoop. “I’m Grace. Glenn’s told me all about you. Twins! How exciting! How are you feeling Carol? I absolutely loved being pregnant, it made me feel like a goddess that my body was able to do something so magnificent, you know? I never felt more beautiful.”

 

Three hours ago Daryl watched Carol drop a pepperoni from her Hot Pocket down her bra, fish it out, eat it, and say, “This is who I am now, I will never be sexy again.”

 

“Yes, it certainly is magical,” she says, and if Grace hears the sarcasm in her voice she doesn’t voice it. Instead, she ushers them inside. 

 

Her home smells like incense, and she has a built-in shelf that’s full of tiny bottles of essential oils. The living room wall has a giant decal that reads, “ _ Family, like branches on a tree, we all grow in different directions, but our roots remain as one. _ ” There are also somewhere between five to six billion photos on the walls, almost all of them of whom Daryl assumes is her son.

 

“You have a lovely home,” Carol says with the smile she uses when she’s pretending she’s not an asshole at heart. Daryl elbows her in the side when Grace isn’t looking and in response she stomps on his foot.

 

“Hey guys,” Glenn says, coming in the room to save them, carrying a small child wearing a t-shirt and diaper in his arms. Thank God, Daryl thinks. “This is Briar.”

 

“Isn’t that a cute name,” Grace says, taking her son from Glenn. “My bestie thought it sounded too much like a girls’ name, but when you love a name you love a name, you know? Do you guys have names picked out yet?”

 

“Er, no,” Carol says.

 

“I’ll lend you a baby naming book,” Grace says with a dismissive wave of the hand. “Anyway, here’s my little guy. This is Carol and Daryl, Briar, can you wave hello?” Briar stares blankly at the two of them, his fist in his mouth. “Wave hello!” Grace insists. He does not wave hello. “He’s shy sometimes,” she explains. “But he’s a really good waver. Right, Glenn?”

 

“Oh the best,” Glenn says. “Aren’t you leaving?” 

 

“I’m waiting for Dan.”

 

“He’s been sitting in the kitchen playing games on his phone for the past half hour,” Glenn says. Then, over his shoulder, he yells, “Hey, Dan! Gracie’s finally ready to leave!” 

 

“You’re gonna wake up Marcus if you keep shouting like that,” Grace says, adjusting Briar on her hip.

 

“Yeah, well, these two need to learn how to deal with a screaming baby anyway,” Glenn says. “Marcus is our baby cousin. He’s sleeping in Briar’s room,” he tells Daryl and Carol.

 

“Oh, this is my hubby,” Grace says as a burly guy with a beard and man-bun comes into the room from the kitchen. 

 

“God, will you  _ please _ stop using the word hubby?” Glenn groans.

 

“Hey,” Dan says, giving Daryl and Carol a head nod. They head nod back. Daryl likes Dan.

 

“Here, give me my nephew and  _ leave _ ,” Glenn says, taking Briar back from Grace.

 

“Remember he goes to bed at eight or else his schedule gets messed up.”

 

“Yep,” Glenn says, pushing his sister towards the door.

 

“And only use his pacifier for nighttime, we’re trying to wean him.”

 

“I know, you already told me, goodbye.” He opens the door, shoves Grace out of it, and Dan casually follows. Grace starts to say something else, but Glenn lets the door shut in her face. The second his parents are out of sight Briar instantly starts to cry.

 

Daryl and Carol both tense up at the wailing toddler. Glenn is unperturbed.

 

“Uh, he’s crying, what do we do?” Carol asks.

 

“He’ll chill out in a second,” Glenn assures them. “Hey, Briar, come here, you wanna play with your duckie?” Glenn walks further into the living room, Daryl and Carol at his heels, and goes and picks up a toy stuffed duck off the couch. He pretends to tickle Briar with it until his tears turn into giggles. Glenn sits him down on the floor where a bunch of toys are scattered around and then stands up straight and puts his hands in his pockets.

 

“How’d you know that’d work?” Daryl asks, frowning down at Briar, who’s now chewing on his duck’s beak.

 

“He just needed to be distracted,” Glenn says with a shrug. “He throws a fit like that every time my sister leaves, but after he finds something fun to do he stops caring. Oh, sorry about my sister, by the way, I told you she’s a lot.”

 

“It’s cool,” Daryl says.

 

“I’m surprised you’re related,” Carol says. Glenn snorts.

 

“I know, right?” 

 

“Can I like, try and talk to him?” Carol asks, nodding down at Briar on the floor. 

 

“Go for it. He’s not a great conversationalist, but he does really like ducks.” 

 

Chewing on her lip, Carol lowers herself to the floor and sits cross-legged next to Briar, who eyes her suspiciously. 

 

“Hey there,” she says. “That’s a cool duck.” Briar blinks at her. Carol looks up at Daryl for help. He gets to the floor too and picks up a toy dump truck. 

 

“I had one of these when I was little,” he says, looking at it. “It was one of the few toys I had. It’d been Merle’s.” He pushes it over to Briar and very lightly runs it into his leg. “You’re in the middle of the road, dude.”

 

Briar takes the duck out of his mouth and looks down at the truck Daryl has pressed against his chubby little thigh. Tentatively he sits his duck in the the back of it and looks at Daryl expectantly.

 

“He takin’ a ride?” Daryl asks. Briar nods. “‘Kay but you’re still in the road so I guess I gotta go over you.” He drives the truck across Briar’s lap and the toddler giggles. Daryl grins and looks to Carol for approval. She smiles at him and gives his knee a squeeze. 

 

“See, they’re not too hard to entertain,” Glenn says. “When he was like seven months old I could play peekaboo with him for fifteen minutes straight and he’d laugh his ass off every time. Oh shit, I shouldn’t swear, my sister will get mad if I teach him curse words. Oh shit, I said shit didn’t I? Oh goddamnit.”

 

“Maybe just stop talking, Glenn,” Carol says. She then furrows her brow. “I think the baby’s crying,” she says. Glenn and Daryl both pause and listen. Sure enough, Daryl hears very faint cries coming from a nearby room.

 

“Usually I’m the one who picks up on things first,” Daryl muses.

 

“Must be a pregnancy thing,” Carol says, shrugging. 

 

“Be right back,” Glenn says. He goes off to fetch the baby. As they watch him leave, Briar tugs on Daryl’s sleeve.

 

“Hm?” he asks, turning towards him.

 

“‘Uck,” Briar says, which could either mean duck or truck. Or fuck, he supposes. Not sure which it is, he decides to just run the truck with the duck inside it over Briar’s lap again. He figures that was the right move when he’s rewarded with giggles. 

 

“He likes you,” Carol says, sounding kind of envious.

 

“Yeah, I dunno, toddlers like me for some reason I guess. There’s this one kid at my therapist’s office that always comes and hangs out with me and I don’t even know why.”

 

“You never told me that.”

 

“Didn’t think to.”

 

“Okay, who wants to meet a baby?” Glenn says, coming back into the room holding a fussy thing wrapped in a bundle of blankets. He gets down onto the floor with them and angles himself so they can all see the baby. He’s got a lot of wispy black hair and one of his hands is free from his swaddle, and his fingers are so small they don’t look real.

 

“Oh my God, he’s so little,” Carol says. “Can I hold him?” 

 

“Sure,” Glenn says. He helps Carol settle him in her arms properly. She bounces him lightly and her lower lip trembles. “Um...are you okay, Carol? You look like you’re about to cry.”

 

“It kind of just happens sometimes,” she says. 

 

“It does,” Daryl agrees. Not that he enjoys her crying, but he’s gotten more used to her tearing up at things.

 

“He’s just so  _ tiny _ . How old is he?”

 

“Almost three months. Briar, no.” Daryl and Carol look over and see Briar, no longer the center of attention, pulling books off a bookshelf. He meets Glenn’s eye as he pulls another book out. Glenn sighs and goes over and snatches him up. “Come here, let’s hang out with your cousin. See the baby?”

 

Briar seems unimpressed.

 

“He’s really three months old and this size?”

 

“Mhm. Your guys’ kids are gonna be even smaller. Especially ‘cause they’re twins.” 

 

“Oh no,” Carol says. “That’s too small, what if we break them or something?”

 

“You won’t,” Glenn assures them. “Now, you wanna learn how to change a dirty diaper.”

 

“Sounds real fun,” Daryl says. “But yeah, show us.” 

 

“‘Kay, hold on, I’m gonna put Briar in his little toy prison.”

 

“What?” Daryl and Carol say at the same time.

 

“My sister calls it a play area, but see that corner over there? It’s got a gate so he can’t run around and destroy things. She always gets annoyed when I call it a prison.” They turn and look over in the far corner of the living room where a little toy area is set up. Glenn goes over and puts Briar in it, making sure to give him his duckie before closing the gate. “Okay, he’ll play in there a minute while we deal with the baby.” 

 

Daryl and Carol watch as Glenn gathers up some cloth diapers, wipes, and a changing pad. He gets back onto the floor with them and spreads out the pad.

 

“Don’t waste money on a changing table,” Glenn tells them. “All three of my sisters have one and half the time they’re changing their kids on the floor or couch or their laps even. Not worth it. Now Carol, lay Marcus down on the pad.”

 

It takes her a minute to get him out of her arms. She mutters something about being afraid she’ll hurt him, and Glenn assures her she won’t. 

 

“Daryl, you unswaddle him.” 

 

“Why’d you give me a hard job?” Daryl grumbles, trying to unwrap the baby from the tightly wound blanket. He looks even smaller without the swaddle. He’s got wrinkly little knees and elbows, and absolutely no motor control.

 

Glenn talks them through the rest of the steps. He’s kind enough to warn them that they should shield themselves because otherwise they will almost certainly get peed on. Cloth diapers seem like a pain in the ass, but if it saves them $3600 it’s something to consider. The damn kid kicks his legs through the whole thing, and cries too, which makes it all seem like way higher stakes, as though Daryl’s on some game show and is going for the million dollar prize.

 

In the end, everyone survives.

 

The rest of the night consists of Glenn watching them like a coworker training a new employee. He gives pointers here and there.

 

“Don’t freak out when he falls down, it makes him think he’s hurt himself when he didn’t. Just tell him he’s okay. Toddlers fall like every five seconds, they really suck at walking.”

 

“Hold the bottle up more ‘cause if he drinks all that air he’s gonna get worse gas.”

 

“Yeah, sorry, I should have warned you about spit up. Here’s a rag.”

 

Daryl picks it all up with surprising ease. Briar likes him, and he manages to calm Marcus down when he cries. Carol has a little more difficulty, not quite sure how to bond with Briar, and getting flustered when Marcus wails.

 

Around eight, both Briar and Marcus fall asleep, and Glenn says he’ll be back because he promised his sister to change out her laundry. Daryl and Carol both collapse on the couch, exhausted.

 

“That was a lot,” Daryl says.

 

“Yeah, and it was only like two and a half hours,” Carol says, shaking her head. “At least you seem to be a pro at it.” Daryl can hear the hint of bitterness in her tone. 

 

“Hey,” he says, taking her hand. “You did good.”

 

“Not as good as you. You knew exactly what to do to keep Briar happy, and Marcus was so chill whenever you were holding him, and he cried whenever I tried to.”

 

“It’s ‘cause you were tense,” Daryl says. “You were too focused on tryna do it perfect. All I did with Briar was play dumb games that made no sense, and I think Marcus was calm ‘cause I was calm.” 

 

“Mm,” Carol says, looking on the verge of tears. He grips her hand tighter.

 

“Baby, you’re not shit with kids, you’re just in your head too much. I don’t got no doubt in my mind that you’re gonna be one kickass momma. It’ll be easier when it’s ours, ‘cause then we won’t have Glenn breathing down our backs like he’s our manager, and you’ll already know ‘em ‘cause you been with ‘em from the start.”

 

Carol sighs and tips her head back against the cushion.

 

“I don’t want to suck at this,” she says.

 

“You won’t.”

 

She shakes her head.

 

“If you say so,” she says, but the words are full of doubt.

 

—-

 

_ March 27th _

_ Sunday _

 

“I hate this so much, I hate this  _ so _ fucking much,” Daryl is saying while he and Glenn head down the creaky stairs into Daryl’s basement.

 

“God, man, you didn’t lie, it’s creepy as hell down here.”

 

“I know, so let’s get this over with so we can get the fuck out.”

 

A week’s worth of research has culminated into a handful of theories. According to their findings, in this town in the year of 1969 there were two murders, five fatal car accidents, a drowning, six suicides, and one fatal house fire, but it was hard to find many details on any of them in the time they had. So Glenn had a great idea, which Daryl is adamantly against but participating in anyway, because he is  _ stupid _ .

 

“Tell me how this thing works again,” he asks as Glenn pulls out a little, black, rectangular device that looks somewhere between a walkie talkie and an old-school mp3 player.

 

“Okay, this is a spirit box. When I turn it on it’ll start cycling through every radio station within range at such a rapid pace that nothing should be discernible. That way, if we hear voices on it, we know it wasn’t from the radio stations, but from whatever entity is living in your basement.”

 

“Hate that. I  _ fucking _ hate that.”

 

“I know you do, but our literal asses are still at stake. This has a record function, so I’m gonna make a copy so we can go back through it if we need to, and also rub it in Rick’s face if we get proof.” 

 

“Ughhh,” Daryl groans. “Okay, fine. Get it over with, turn it on.”

 

“Sure you’re ready?”

 

“ _ Yes _ . Just  _ do _ it.”

 

Glenn raises a hand in surrender, and then presses a few buttons on his spirit box. Suddenly, the whole basement is full of a horrible noise that sounds like a million different frequencies of static going on in a loop. It bounces off the concrete walls, and Daryl grimaces.

 

“That’s horrible,” he says.

 

“You’ll get used to it.”

 

“So what do we do now?” 

 

“Ask it questions, I guess.”

 

“You want us to  _ talk _ to it?”

 

“Of course, we need it to talk back, don’t we?”

 

“Fine, whatever, we’re going to die, but fine.”

 

Glenn clears his throat and says into the room, “Um. Hi. My name is Glenn, and this is my friend Daryl.”

 

“Don’t tell it my  _ name _ , man,” Daryl groans under his breath.

 

“Shut up,” Glenn hisses back, then to the room, he says, “We aren’t here to hurt you or anything, we just want to know who you are. What’s your name?”

 

They listen intently, hearing nothing but radio stations flipping from one to the next at top speed.

 

“It’s okay to tell us,” Glenn says. He frowns and glances at Daryl. “Maybe you should ask. You live here, so maybe it knows you better.”

 

Daryl wants to punch him.

 

“Hi, what’s your name?” Daryl says quickly.

 

“Be nicer than that.”

 

“God, fuck you. Fine. Hi, I’m Daryl, I live here and I’m terrified of you, so maybe if you told me your name I would feel better,” he lies. That would not help at all. “Can you like...do that? Tell me your name?”

 

A weird sound skips on the spirit box, and Glenn and Daryl exchange a look.

 

“Say that again?” Glenn says. “Please?”

 

“Lydia,” says the spirit box in a muffled, weird pitch. Daryl can feel his pulse in his temples.

 

“Did you hear it say Lydia?” Glenn whispers to Daryl. Daryl shuts his eyes tight and gives a stiff nod. “Well, ask her something else. She listens to you.”

 

Daryl does not want to continue this conversation. He takes a breath.

 

“What do you want, Lydia?” he asks. “Do you like, want something?”

 

Another muffled skip comes over the spirit box, but he can’t make it out.

 

“Ugh, goddamnit,” he mutters. “What was that, Lydia?” 

 

“My—Ren,” says the spirit box. Daryl looks to Glenn, who shakes his head.

 

“One more time?” Daryl asks.

 

“My children,” says the spirit box. Daryl’s heart actually stops for a full beat or two.

 

“Nope,” he says. “Turn it off.”

 

“But dude, did you hear that?” Glenn says excitedly. “She said ‘my children.’ Did you hear that, too? Does that mean her children are here? Or...Oh man, you don’t think she means the twins, do you? Do you think she thinks the twins are hers?”

 

“I’m done,” Daryl says, throwing up his hands. “Bye.” 

 

“But—” Glenn starts, but Daryl’s already on his way up the stairs. He gets to the top and goes all the way across the house and straight through the front door. He breathes in the fresh air and wills himself to calm down. 

 

Fuck the absolute shit outta this, he thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i made glenn's sister obnoxious, but i'm a doula so i'm just as guilty of touting all that natural birth shit as well. shh, don't tell.
> 
> twenty minutes until the finale! if you've stopped watching, just know i've got it on good authority that tonight is very worth it if you're a caryler. jsyk.
> 
> until thursday,
> 
> -diz


	10. Praise Be to the Duolingo Owl For You, Daryl Dixon

_ April 10th _

_ Sunday _

 

(12:34p) *Stop working and come home.*

 

(12:42p) -y wuts wrong?-

 

(12:45p) *Nothing I just really want to fuck you.*

 

(12:47p) -...um...-

 

(12:48p) *Tell Dale you have a family emergency and come get on top of me.*

 

(12:48p) *Or I can get on top of you if you prefer.*

 

(12:48p) *Or we can mix it up, I'm game for whatever.*

 

(12:52p) -yeah idk how 2 reply 2 tht-

 

(12:53p) *By saying “yes my love I'll be there soon to have my way with you on every surface of the house.”*

 

(12:59p) -only @ work a few more hrs-

 

(1:02p) *Uggggh, why did you pick up a weekend shift?*

 

(1:02p) *I have jacked off twice and it did nothing for me bc all I want is you.*

 

(1:02p) *And like, maybe a chicken sandwich.*

 

(1:04p) *Actually yeah, I want a chicken sandwich like right this minute. I'm gonna make one.*

 

(1:04p) *What would go good with a chicken sandwich?*

 

(1:05p) -u put syrup on a hardboiled egg yesterday so i dnt have the 1st clue of wut u wud want 2 eat-

 

(1:07p) *Hey, at least I'm over the Hot Pocket phase.*

 

(1:07p) *I never want to see another Hot Pocket again. :))) *

 

(1:12p) -tru-

 

(1:12p) -howd u go from horny 2 hungry in like 2 seconds?-

 

(1:15p) *Pregnancy. Why don't we have tomatoes?*

 

(1:18p) -bc u dnt like tomatoes?-

 

(1:19p) *I would kill a man for a tomato for this sandwich.*

 

(1:19p) *I have to go to the store.*

 

(1:19p) *But I'm hungry now.*

 

(1:20p) *What do I do?*

 

(1:22p) -snack on smthn? i can pick up tomatoes from the store whn im off work if u want-

 

(1:25p) *But you have to come straight home from work bc we have to have sex.*

 

(1:27p) -my mistake-

 

(1:30p) *It's ok I put peanut butter and a little bit of honey in a bowl and it's way better than a chicken sandwich.*

 

(1:31p) -like just peanut butter n honey n nthn else?-

 

(1:34p) *I wanted to put in chocolate chips but I'm trying to eat better so the dr won't yell at me.*

 

(1:35p) *...Would you tell on me if I put in like a tiny handful?*

 

(1:37p) -nah i'll keep ur secret-

 

(1:38p) *This is why you're the perfect man.*

 

(1:38p) *Also the hottest man.*

 

(1:38p) *I want to be naked with you right now immediately.*

 

(1:42p) -ur givin me whiplash here-

 

(1:43p) *Can't a girl eat half a jar of peanut butter while also needing to be dicked down??*

 

(1:46p) -my mistake x2-

 

(1:48p) *Are you home yet?*

 

(1:53p) -nah sry-

 

(1:53p) -brake pads wont fix themselves u kno-

 

(1:56p) *Ten bucks says that if you texted Axel that you needed your shift covered “to get some pussy” he'd do it in a heartbeat.*

 

(2:01p) -he wud but thts bc even tho hes nice hes also kinda a creep-

 

(2:03p) *He's sweet. He also checks me out every single time I'm around him. Even with the load I'm lugging around with me up front.*

 

(2:07p) -ya ik :/ -

 

(2:07p) -another reason 4 him not 2 cover 4 me i dnt want him thinking abt u like tht-

 

(2:08p) *Oh he's just a dummy, he'd never try anything.*

 

(2:11p) -ik but still-

 

(2:13p) *Are you being territorial? Is that what's happening here?*

 

(2:17p) -no-

 

(2:18p) *Mmm kinda seems like you are and ngl... it's pretty hot.*

 

(2:24p) -o gud bc i am but i didnt wnt u 2 b mad-

 

(2:25p) *Lol!*

 

(2:25p) *Surprised you admitted it.*

 

(2:27p) -idk ig im bein protective-

 

(2:28p) -been feelin tht more lately its weird-

 

(2:28p) -not tht i think u cant take care of urself but i dunno-

 

(2:31p) *Maybe the twins are making some weird primal instincts kick in. Like you wanna battle anyone that threatens your mate or your young.*

 

(2:37p) -lmao tht just makes me sound like a wild animal or smthn like when henry growls @ other dogs tht go near u-

 

(2:40p) *I understand the comparison, but I'm laughing because Henry is currently laying on his back on the floor next to me letting me spoon feed him peanut butter (diff spoon dw). He is way too spoiled to be considered a wild animal.*

 

(2:41p) *Domestication has ruined him.*

 

(2:41p) *Meanwhile it's done the exact opposite to you.*

 

(2:41p) *Which again I note, is kinda hot.*

 

(2:41p) *More than kinda.*

 

(2:42p) *My weird hormones apparently are digging these protective vibes. Probably some weird biological thing where I'm drawn to you bc you're solid father material.*

 

(2:42p) *Whatever the reason, I want you to bend me over the arm of the couch and fuck my brains out. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ *

 

(2:45p) -jfc-

 

(2:46p) *But also I lied, I still want a chicken sandwich, so you have to go to the store and get tomatoes.*

 

(2:46p) *You can fuck out my brains after sandwiches.*

 

(2:48p) -lmao-

 

(2:48p) -priorities-

 

(2:49p) *Yes exactly.*

 

(2:50p) -smh ok-

 

(2:50p) -txt me other foods u think of ovr the next 2 hrs so i can make sure u have wutever weird shit u wnt 2 eat-

 

(2:52p) *That's the sexiest thing anyone's ever said to me.*

 

(2:52p) *Also, not to be a stereotype again but like…*

 

(2:52p) *Pickles plz?*

 

(2:54p) -nythng u wnt babe-

 

(2:55p) *Anything I want.*

 

(2:55p) *And who says “I love you” are the best three words to say in a relationship?*

 

(2:59p) -pfft-

 

(2:59p) -tho tbf i do luv u also-

 

(3:02p) *And that's why I'm the luckiest girl in the whole damn world. <3*

 

—-

 

“Do you think we should start getting baby stuff and setting up the house? Make it habitable for infants?” Carol asks. She and Daryl are in bed, their clothes elsewhere, and Daryl's sat behind her rubbing her shoulders.

 

“Pro'ly should at least figure out where we wanna put stuff,” Daryl says, pressing his thumbs against a knot at the base of her neck. 

 

“Do you think the spare room you renovated would work as a nursery or is it too small? Or we could switch our things to there and the nursery could be in here.”

 

“I'll do some measurements and see. It's roomier than it looks but we gotta fit two cribs in there.” He kisses a a couple freckles on her upper back. “That was s'posed to be a guest room.”

 

Carol huffs a laugh.

 

“So much for that,” she says. She doesn't sound upset, but Daryl twists his mouth. “What is it?” she asks, because even though she can't see his facial expression he knows that she knows him intuitively enough to recognize even miniscule shifts in his demeanor.

 

“Just thinkin’,” he says after a beat. “Things we used to say in high school 'bout wanting to get out of this town, or how you said you might wanna go to school someday. Kinda threw a wrench in things, didn't we?”

 

“I guess so,” Carol says. “I mean, it definitely puts things on hold, that's for sure, but it doesn't have to be forever.” She absently drums her fingers against his bare leg. “Are you disappointed that our plans have changed?”

 

“No,” he says honestly. “Never had big plans, anyways. S'far as I'm concerned making a family with you is the best route I coulda taken.”

 

“Then what's the problem, why do you sound concerned?”

 

“I dunno,” he says, shrugging a shrug she can't see but he knows she picks up on. He stops rubbing her back and instead wraps his arms around her, letting her fall back against his chest. “Just worry sometimes that  _ you're _ disappointed. Or that if you aren't now that you're gonna be.”

 

“Why would you worry about something like that?” she asks quietly, taking hold of his forearm and running her hand lightly across it.

 

“I just... I'm gonna do what I can, alright? The babies, they're gonna change things and we can't do nothin’ about that, but if you decide you want a new job, or you wanna go back to school, I'll do what I can to get you there. And if…” He trails off.

 

“If?” she prompts.

 

“You're not stuck with me, okay? My momma and my daddy, they shotgunned it 'cause of Merle and that shit was toxic as hell. I want you for as long as you'll have me, but don't... don't feel like you gotta stay if someday you decide it ain't what you want. Just promise you'll never keep my kids from me, that's all I ask.”

 

She's silent for a long time, and then she turns around in his arms and searches his face.

 

“Why are you saying this?” she asks, frowning. He shakes his head.

 

“'Cause I don't want you to ever feel trapped.” He strokes her cheek, and says, “I want you to be happy, Carol.”

 

“Why don't you think I'll be happy with you?” she asks, shaking her head, baffled. He regards her a moment and shrugs again.

 

“I hope you will be,” he says. “But just in case—” She cuts him off with a hand to his mouth.

 

“Shush,” she says. “No 'just in case’. I  _ chose _ to make a family with you, Daryl, this was a choice. So when your silly brain of yours starts telling you to doubt yourself, remember that I could have picked the other option. I wanted this. I  _ want _ it. It's not the life I expected to have this early, but I'm not disappointed about it, I promise.”

 

She lowers her hand and watches him expectantly until he nods.

 

“Okay,” he says. She smiles softly and kisses him even softer. She takes a gentle hold of his wrists and guides both of his hands to her belly.

 

“I know you can't yet,” she says, resting her forehead on his. “But I think I'm starting to be able to feel them.”

 

This catches him by surprise. He leans back to see her properly, eyebrows raised.

 

“Seriously?”

 

“Yeah,” she says with a nod. “At first I thought it was just tummy rumbles, but it keeps happening, and it's about around this time that women start to notice it, at least that's what I've read.”

 

“What does it feel like? Is it weird?” Daryl asks, pressing his hands against her more firmly even though he knows they're still too little for him to feel anything.

 

“It's like tiny gas bubbles. Like itty bitty flutters. Definitely weird, like, whoa, there are things alive in there.”

 

“That's nuts,” Daryl says, looking at her belly. She's definitely looking pregnant now. It's getting harder everyday to press their bodies flush together when they kiss goodbye in the morning, and they're having to get a little more creative with sex. They aren't even halfway through.

 

“Wild, right?” she agrees. “But good.” She lifts his chin up with her finger so he'll meet her eye. “I'm happy, okay?” she says. “I love you, I love them, and I'm happy.”

 

He chews on his bottom lip and nods.

 

“Me too,” he says, and he means it.

 

—-

 

(9:19p) ~any new ghost updates?~

 

(9:22p) -no bc im nvr going back downstairs-

 

(9:25p) >Good, then you forfeit and I win by default.<

 

(9:27p) ~wrong. daryl, you can't keep avoiding it, it's been weeks. we gotta figure this mystery out, or do you really want one of your children to be named New Year's Eve Whoopsie Rick Miller-Dixon?~

 

(9:28p) -ok 1st off neither of my kids r gna b named nyew-

 

(9:28p) -2nd u sent tht recording 2 rick rite? so we shud have won-

 

(9:30p) >Based off a fuzzy sound bite? Yeah right.<

 

(9:31p) ~i’m with daryl, that was solid evidence. that recording proved there's a ghost.~

 

(9:32p) >That recording didn't prove jack.<

 

(9:34p) -u srsly dnt hear it?-

 

(9:37p) >I've listened to it a million times. I can /maybe/ hear why you /think/ you hear “my babies” and if I turn off the thinking part of my brain I can turn the static into something sort of resembling “Lydia” but it hardly counts as hard proof.<

 

(9:38p) ~i think rick's playing us, but whatever. we'll get more evidence.~

 

(9:40p) -must we?-

 

(9:41p) ~do it for your children, daryl. your babies, if you will.~

 

(9:42p) -uggggh a ghost wnts 2 steal my kids ://// -

 

(9:44p) >God you guys are dumb, I'm going to bed, I have to get up early tomorrow.<

 

(9:45p) ~whatever, goodnight agent scully.~

 

(9:45p) ~and daryl, get your head back in the game.~

 

(9:47p) - :/ -

 

(9:48p) >Night, assholes.<

 

(9:49p) - /: -

 

(9:49p) -gnite-

 

—-

 

_ April 11th _

_ Monday (middle of the night) _

 

Daryl is outside his childhood house, his friends on bikes staring back at him. They haven’t aged, but he has. The house is billowing dark black clouds, flames dancing out of windows and glowing embers of fallen bits of infrastructure litter the ground. 

 

And his friends keep staring, unblinking, ice cold.

 

Daryl doesn’t move. He’s stuck in place. The air is thick with smoke and it hurts his lungs.

 

“This your house?” a firefighter asks, approaching him. He’s dressed in uniform and is covered in ash. Daryl nods, and the firefighter nods back. “They didn’t make it,” he says.

 

“My mom and dad?” Daryl asks. “My brother?” But the firefighter shakes his head.

 

“Carol didn’t make it,” he says matter-of-factly. “The babies, too. They’re all dead.”

 

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Daryl says, adrenaline pouring into his bloodstream making his heart beat double time. “Carol doesn’t live here.”

 

“They didn’t make it,” the firefighter says again, as casually as one would discuss the weather.

 

“No, but my kids, they shouldn’t be here either.”

 

The firefighter shrugs and turns to walk away. Daryl hollers after him but his screams fall to deaf ears.

 

“Where’s Carol?” he shouts, over and over until his voice goes hoarse.

 

Right in front of him he watches the roof of his home collapse, and he tastes acid on the back of his throat. They’re not supposed to be in there. They aren’t there, they’re okay, they have to be okay, they have to—

 

“Daryl,” comes Carol’s voice and his heart leaps at the sound. “Daryl, honey,” she’s saying. He searches frantically for her, but he can’t find her. “Honey, wake up.”

 

Daryl snaps his eyes open and then squints at the sudden light coming from the bedside lamp that’s been switched on. He can feel the blood rushing in his temples and his chest is heaving. He looks to his left and finds Carol watching him with a worried expression and he is instantly flush with relief.

 

“Oh thank God,” he says, exhaling in a huff. He reaches over and cups her cheek. “Are you okay?” he asks and Carol gives him a bemused laugh.

 

“Am I okay? I’m fine. Are  _ you  _ okay? You were thrashing all over the place and kept saying my name. Bad dream?” 

 

“Mm,” Daryl agrees. He leans over and kisses her. He pulls away even though every fiber of his being wants to stay pressed against her because it means she’s  _ alive _ . “Sorry for wakin’ you.”

 

“It’s fine. Do you want to talk about it?”

 

“No,” he says. “Just wanna hold you. Turn off the light and c’mere, let’s go back to sleep.” 

 

Carol frowns, brows knit together. She opens her mouth like she wants to inquire further and then thinks better of it. Instead, she leans over and switches off the lamp. Daryl gathers her up in his arms, one of his hands finding the swell of her belly.

 

“You still feeling them?” he asks quietly.

 

“Yeah, actually, right when I woke up. You freaked me out and I think they could tell,” she says.

 

“Didn’t mean to freak you out. Glad you can feel ‘em though.”

 

“You know whatever it was was just a dream, right?”

 

“I know,” Daryl says, but he holds her tighter anyway, and doesn’t fall asleep again until well after she does, finally lulled under by the deep breaths, the twins safe and secure beneath his palm.

 

—-

 

_ April 12th  _

_ Tuesday (early) _

 

Carol’s holding a baby in either arm. He can’t make out their faces—can’t see any details—but he knows they’re his kids. Carol’s smiling sweetly at him; that nice lazy upturn of her lips that she gives him when they first wake up in the morning and she seems happy to see him, as though he’s something worth missing even during sleep. Behind her he can see into their bedroom, where two cribs are shoved inside. There are toys on the floor—a toy truck and a stuffed duck.

 

Their mattress is on fire.

 

He tries to tell her to get away, but she says, “The babies need to go down for their nap.” She turns to go into the bedroom. He reaches for her but even though she’s  _ right there _ he can’t get a hold of her. She keeps walking as the flames catch the curtains and creep up the walls. She shuts the door behind her.

 

He desperately yanks at the doorknob but it’s stuck. He kicks the door frame but it won’t budge. He yells at her to come out, but she never does. Smoke, black and dense, is creeping out between the crevices, and everything smells burnt. Everything is burning…

 

“Jesus Christ, baby, calm down. You’re gonna throw yourself right off the bed. Wake up, you’re dreaming. Daryl, do you hear me? You’re dreaming.”

 

He wakes with a start, looking around the room wildly until his eyes land on her and he can breathe again. The light is on and she rubs sleep from her eyes even as she twists her mouth at him in concern.

 

“Do our smoke detectors work?” he asks, voice gravelly. She blinks at him.

 

“What?” she asks.

 

“Our smoke detectors, do they work?”

 

“Yes, I set one off just last week when I burnt a grilled cheese, they work fine. Why? Baby, what were you dreaming about?”

 

He shakes his head.

 

“Nothin’. Nothin’, it was just a dream.”

 

“You were panicking in your sleep, it was kind of scary. Are you sure you’re okay?”

 

“Fine, I’m just bein’ stupid. Go back to sleep.”

 

“You had a nightmare last night, too,” she reminds him, as though he could have forgotten.

 

“I’m okay,” he assures her. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart, you need the rest.”

 

She narrows her eyes at him but knows better than to press him. She turns the lamp off with a click and lays her head back down on her pillow. She takes Daryl’s hand in hers and he squeezes it tight involuntarily.

 

She falls asleep easily, but he’s up until sunrise, one ear listening for the popping of flames. Tomorrow he’s going to check the fire detectors. He may even check them twice.

 

—-

 

_ April 12th  _

_ Tuesday (normal human hour) _

 

The receptionist sets her jaw when she sees Daryl come in. It’s the same receptionist every week. She’s a heavyset, white woman with round glasses and a nameplate in front of her that reads “Jamie” in gold lettering. She’s the one who’s supposed to enter his paperwork, ergo, she hates him.

 

“Appointment at noon with Peterson,” Daryl mumbles, even unfriendlier than usual because he’s tired and cranky. Jamie hands over the clipboard with a sigh, as they both know it’s futile, and Daryl goes to the waiting room to see Soccer Mom already there, sans Ryan.

 

He sits across from her and they exchange tight-lipped smiles. Daryl isn’t sure how to interact with her without a wriggly toddler as a buffer, and judging by the way she’s tapping her foot and clicking her tongue, neither does she.

 

“Ryan’s spending time with grandma today,” she says finally, answering a question Daryl never asked.

 

“Oh,” Daryl says, hoping he sounds interested and not uncomfortable, although he’s pretty sure he fails.

 

“Yeah, just...needed a bit of a break.” She says this with another tight-lipped smile, although it comes out different than the last one—guiltier.

 

“Bet he wears you down sometimes,” Daryl mutters, picking at a loose thread on his jeans.

 

“Pfft, you can say that again,” Soccer Mom scoffs, and when Daryl frowns up at her she quickly adds, “Not that I don’t love him. He’s just...a handful sometimes.”

 

Daryl truly regards her for maybe the first time. She’s young but has frown lines. She hasn’t washed her hair in a good day or two, and she’s got dark circles under her eyes. She brings her left hand to her face to scratch an itch and she’s got a diamond wedding ring on her ring finger. She seems like a perfectly ordinary housewife, and Daryl’s first instinct is to wonder why a perfect, white-picket-fence woman would be sitting in a therapist's’ office, but he quickly berates himself. He doesn’t appreciate the assumptions made about him, after all.

 

“You okay?” he asks after a beat. She seems surprised by the question, eyes widening marginally. She gives a nervous laugh that fails to cover her lapse and says,

 

“I’m fine.”

 

She says it the same way Carol says it when she’s anything but.

 

“Daryl?” Dr. Peterson says, smiling at him from the doorway.

 

Daryl shoots a last glance at Soccer Mom. He chews his bottom lip a moment before saying, “Hope that’s true.” 

 

He gets up and follows Dr. Peterson to her office without waiting for a response.

 

They get to the end of the hall and Dr. Peterson lets him go through first.

 

Chair.

 

Arms crossed.

 

Eyes on the floor. 

 

Her sitting across.

 

Etc.

 

“How have things been?” Dr. Peterson asks brightly.

 

“Mmph,” Daryl grunts in response with a shrug.

 

“Something happen?” she asks, but he shakes his head.

 

“Nah, sorry. ‘M just tired.”

 

“That’s okay, happens to the best of us. Didn’t sleep well?”

 

“No. Not last night or the night before, so ‘m kinda runnin’ on fumes. Good practice, though, I guess.”

 

“Practice?” 

 

“For the twins. Babies keep you up a lot, right?”

 

“Mm,” Dr. Peterson hums in agreement. “They do, at least at first. It gets better over time. Well...mostly. My kids still insists on crawling into bed with me at five thirty in the morning.”

 

“Everyone keeps sayin’ shit like that, like how hard havin’ a kid is. Don’t exactly fill me with confidence about havin’ two,” Daryl mumbles, irritated.

 

“Don’t worry too much,” Dr. Peterson assures him. “The good will outweigh the bad.” He glances up at her.

 

“You think so?” he asks.

 

“I’d be surprised if it didn’t,” she says earnestly, and that gives Daryl some comfort. He nods and casts his gaze back down to the ground. “Why haven’t you been sleeping, though? No babies to keep you up yet.”

 

Daryl frowns at the carpet.

 

“I dunno,” he mumbles. “Nightmares, I guess.”

 

“Nightmares? Do you get those often?” 

 

“No,” Daryl says, shaking his head. “Or, well, I used to, but not for a long, long time. I usually don’t remember my dreams.”

 

“But you remember these?”

 

“Pfft,” Daryl huffs. “Yeah. I remember them real good. Super realistic. Scared the shit outta me. Carol had to wake me up both times. Guess I was thrashin’ all around.”

 

“Wanna tell me what they were about?” At Daryl’s glare and raised eyebrow, she adds, “We don’t have to do any dream analysis, I promise. I’m just curious.”

 

Daryl considers this and finds he’s much too tired to argue.

 

“They both was about fire.”

 

“Fire?”

 

“Yeah, like my house bein’ on fire. And in both of ‘em Carol and the twins burned up and there was nothin’ I could do to save ‘em.”

 

“Yeah that doesn’t sound cheerful,” Dr. Peterson says with purposeful understatement. “Your mom, she died in a house fire, didn’t she?” 

 

“Thought you said no dream analysis.”

 

“It’s not analysis, it’s a question. I’m just wondering if maybe an anniversary’s coming up, or something triggered a memory to make you start dreaming up fires.”

 

“Nah,” Daryl says, thinking. “Nothin’ comes to mind.”

 

“Maybe it was a fluke?”

 

“Two nights in a row, though?”

 

“Could be. Maybe it’s just your brain’s fucked up way of making you freak out about the increased responsibility to come.”

 

Daryl cracks a small smile. He likes it when she swears.

 

“You think?”

 

“Don’t know, I’m brainstorming. Dreams can be weird.”

 

“Yeah, I guess. These felt so real, though. I ain’t had a fire nightmare in a long-ass time.”

 

“So your nightmares from before, they were about fires?”

 

“A lot of the time, yeah. Sometimes my daddy would make an appearance, doin’ shit that he does, but the real bad ones, the ones I remember most, those were all fires.”

 

“Maybe this is getting too close to analysis, but can I ask what happened the day your mother died? You can give me the cliffsnotes version, no emotion needed.”

 

“No a long story. I was out with some neighborhood kids and we heard some sirens. They biked off to see what was up and I tried to catch them but I couldn’t afford no bike so I was on foot. Finally found ‘em at my place. Whole house was in flames. Mom drank too much wine and fell asleep with a cigarette in her hand. Lit the mattress right up, and her along with it, and that was that.”

 

“What happened after? Where’d you go?”

 

“Dad, Merle, and I moved into that piece of shit shack I’m guessin’ dad is still at. Had a tiny funeral and then never talked about her after that.”

 

“Never?” 

 

“Not like we’re a touchy-feely type of family. Most I ever heard my dad say was him tellin’ me I shoulda been in that house instead of her ‘cause at least she was useful enough to make a decent dinner every now and then.”

 

“So you never mourned her?”

 

“Sure I did. Missed her for a while, then I learned to live with it.”

 

“And that’s it? You learned to live with it and now here we are?”

 

“I guess?”

 

“Alright, well here’s a question. What would you say to Carol if she told you she’s learned to live with her mother’s death so now she doesn’t need to talk about it anymore?”

 

“I’d call bullshit, but that’s ‘cause she represses stuff.”

 

“She does, huh?”

 

“Yeah, all the time. Tryna get her to talk about shit that hurts is like pulling teeth.”

 

“Sorta like trying to get someone to talk who won’t look you in the eye and tells you to not ever ask them how they feel?” Dr. Peterson asks pointedly. Daryl looks up and scowls.

 

“I don’t repress,” he says. “I’m just private.” Dr. Peterson nods innocently and Daryl feels a flash of anger. “Shut up, I don’t,” he argues.

 

“Did I say anything to the contrary,” she asks, holding her hands up in surrender.

 

“No, but you was thinkin’ it.”

 

“Mind reader now, huh?”

 

“Whatever.”

 

“Look, I’m taking you at your word. You say you deal, then you deal. I’m sure your nightmares are nothing and will go away on their own.”

 

“They will.” 

 

“Alright.”

 

_ “They will.”  _

 

“I’m glad.”

 

Daryl sighs heavily and crosses his arms tighter, jaw clenched. 

 

“Have you two done any baby shopping?” Dr. Peterson asks then. Daryl rolls his eyes but lets her change the subject, refusing to give weight to any suggestion that he has anything about his mother left to grieve. It was over a decade ago, and why would it be bothering him  _ now _ ?

 

It wouldn’t, he decides resolutely, and he thinks it with such certainty that he almost believes it.

 

—-

 

_ April 24th _

_ Sunday _

 

The nightmares haven’t gone away, but Daryl hasn’t bothered to tell Dr. Peterson that, stubbornly refusing to give her the satisfaction. They don’t happen every night, but on the nights they do, they’re bad. It’s never the same dream twice, but they all follow the same narrative—in every one there’s a fire that lights Carol and their children up in flames, while he stands helpless, watching it happen. 

 

Carol doesn’t wake up for all of them, but she’s woken up to enough that she’s growing concerned. He brushes off her worries, vaguely placing blame on stress, and never telling her just what it is he sees at night when he closes his eyes. During the day, he hides his compulsive need to check the stove and smoke detectors. He may be going slowly insane, but he can deal with it. She doesn’t need his bullshit on her already overflowing plate.

 

He wakes up Sunday morning like he has so many days in the past few weeks—sleep deprived and anxious—but his dreams last night weren’t as bad as they could have been, so he’s counting it as a win.

 

Carol is already out of bed. He hears her talking to Henry in the other room. He goes and jumps into the shower, doing something he rarely does and takes his time, letting the hot water work some of the tension out of his body. When he’s done he throws on some lounge clothes and goes to the living room.

 

“Morning,” he says, shoving Henry over and taking a seat on the couch the dog and Carol are sharing. He kisses her on the cheek and she smiles at him. 

 

“Good almost-afternoon,” she says back. 

 

“Eleven forty-seven,” Daryl says, checking his phone. “Still technically morning.”

 

“That’s why I said  _ almost _ ,” she says and Daryl snorts. She takes his hand and plays with his fingers absently. “So, are you up for an adventure today?”

 

Daryl knits his brows together.

 

“What kind of adventure?” he asks. 

 

“The surprise kind,” she says, smirking at him Daryl narrows his eyes. 

 

“What are you scheming?” 

 

“It’s a surprise. Now go get your shoes on because me asking if you were up for one was just a formality, we’re going regardless.”

 

“Going where?”

 

“Do you not understand the concept of a surprise?” 

 

Daryl huffs, but sees the steel in her eye and relents, knowing he’s not going to be able to pry it out of her. He gets his socks and shoes on while Carol wrangles a disgruntled Henry into his kennel in the kitchen. She comes back out carrying a a medium sized duffle bag and holds it out to him.

 

“Be a dear and carry this for me, please and thank you,” she says. 

 

“What’s in it?” he asks, taking the bag. It’s not heavy but it’s not light either. 

 

“It’s full of mind your business and go to the car,” she says sweetly in response. Rolling his eyes and grumbling, Daryl does as he’s told, Carol at his heel. He puts the mystery bag in the backseat and gets into the passenger side of her Chevy. Carol gets in the driver’s seat, the action not quite as graceful as it once was as she presses a hand to her round belly. She pulls out of the drive and onto the road without a single word and Daryl knows better than to ask.

 

“Are you taking me out to the woods to kill me?” Daryl asks after a while, after they’ve made a few turns onto country roads and the trees grow denser. 

 

“You caught me,” she says, grinning. “It’s the hormones, they needed me to make a kill.”

 

“Feel like you could have at least started with your coworker, but whatever,” Daryl says with a long-suffering sigh that makes Carol laugh. He shoots her a glance and half a smirk before gazing back out of his window. 

 

The route is growing familiar now, and after another turn Daryl knows where they’re going. He’s not opposed, but he’s not sure why she kept it under wraps. He keeps this to himself and lets her drive up into the spot up ahead at the base of a hill that leads up to his secret spot that he’s shared only with her.

 

“You gonna be able to make it up there?” he asks once they’ve parked. He shoulders the duffle bag and watches her pop the trunk and dig out a blanket. 

 

“Yeah, I’ll manage. Ask me in a few weeks and that answer may change,” she says, eyeing the hill. It’s not particularly steep, but it’s a bit of a trek. He takes the blanket from her and she frowns. “I can carry something,” she says.

 

“You are,” he says, nodding at her belly, and she rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue.

 

They go up the hill, slower than the usually would. She’s on the cusp of getting properly big now, the fact that there are two babies in there starting to really make itself known. The last two weeks have pushed the curve of her belly well out past her hips. 

 

When they get to the top, Daryl immediately lays the blanket out over the grass and helps her down. She’s catching her breath, the room in her torso for lungs to expand a little crowded at the moment, but she’s smiling as she pats the ground beside her. He sits the bag down and lowers himself to the ground until he’s sitting criss-cross beside her, their thighs touching. 

 

“‘Kay, so do I get to know what’s up now?” he asks. 

 

“Mhm,” she says, taking his hand and tilting her head up, looking him in the eye. “Happy anniversary,” she says. 

 

His first feeling is confusion, quickly followed by crushing guilt.

 

“Oh fuck, is it? I’m sorry, I didn’t—” but she cuts him off by pressing her free hand to his lips and shaking her head.

 

“If you’re about to apologize for forgetting, don’t bother. The literal only reason I knew it was our anniversary is because Michonne sent me a Facebook memories photo yesterday of us at prom. It made me cry because I was very hot in that picture and now I’m a pimply, fat goblin, but that’s besides the point.”

 

“Not a pimply, fat goblin,” Daryl says, voice muffled with her hand still on his mouth. 

 

“Shh, we’re not going to think about it,” she says, uncovering his mouth and using her arm to lean on as she stretches her back out. “But okay, I have words to say to you. My anniversary gift to you is that you don’t have to say any words back, but you gotta listen to mine.”

 

“Alright,” Daryl says cautiously. Carol nods and then takes a breath, looking out across the vast expanse of forest in front of them.

 

“A year ago today, I woke up after having spent the night before swapping spit with my best friend. Then we drove up here, he agreed to be my boyfriend, and then we swapped some more spit while it poured rain on us.”

 

“And on Henry,” Daryl reminds her. 

 

“Yes, and on Henry, who was less than thrilled that his parents were more interested in playing tonsil hockey than getting him into the dry car, but I digress. The point is that after so much,  _ so  _ much, shit, I finally got something I wanted more than anything, and that was for me to be yours and you to be mine. 

 

“And now it’s been 365 days and they have been the best days of my life so far. Even when we’re struggling with money, or fighting with our families, or bickering over the proper way to put toilet paper on the holder—which, by the way, is over and not under, obviously—I am so grateful, because you quite literally have saved me, Daryl. I don’t you really understand how  _ blank  _ my future looked before you were in it. It was so empty that I was starting to think it was because there wouldn’t be one; that maybe I was here to get my mom through her life and once that was done I would have fulfilled my purpose and...I dunno. I really don’t. 

 

“But now I don’t have to know, because you heard a psycho girl cursing at her truck and decided against better judgement that you should help her, and now we don’t only have a future with each other, but we have a future with our children. Children. Plural. And oh my god, are we stupid for going through with something like that at our age, with our finances, in our tiny trash house, but oh my god am I ecstatic that we are. Sure, it was an accident, but it was an accident we made because we loved each other, and I think there are a lot worse ways to fuck up. 

 

“And like...listen, I know you have to give me that out. I know every talk of our future has to come with a disclaimer that I don’t have to stay, and I won’t ask you to stop, because I understand where that comes from, but I just want you to know that I intend to stay, Daryl, not out of obligation, but because I want to. More than anything, I  _ want  _ to, and you can keep telling me I’m free to go, and I’ll just keep telling you I’m fine where I’m at until eventually you’ll learn to believe me. That’s a challenge I’m happy to take on.” 

 

She looks away from the forest then and turns her gaze on him. She’s got a single tear running down her cheek, and when he reaches up to brush it away she leans into his touch. 

 

“I love you,” she says. “I love you very, very much, and it’s really as simple as that. And next year maybe we can lug our babies up here and let them see where mommy and daddy finally got their shit together and admitted that they belonged together.”

 

Daryl bounces his knee up and down, chewing on his lip, eyes stinging a little. He blows out a breath and blinks back his tears, smiling shyly at her. He doesn’t trust himself to speak so he just nods. She understands. She leans in and presses the sweetest of kisses onto his lips and squeezes his hand. She pulls away, just barely an inch, and whispers against his mouth,

 

“Praise be to the Duolingo owl for you, Daryl Dixon.” 

 

“Pffffft,” Daryl snorts, cracking up entirely. He buries his face against her shoulder and she holds his head as he shakes with laughter. He comes back up, kisses her again, and says, “You are so goddamn weird, and I love the absolute shit outta you.” 

 

“Good, because this whole thing would be really awkward if you didn’t,” she says, making him snort again. They smile at each other for a long moment until Carol clears her throat. “Okay! Enough emotions! Gross! Let’s open this bag instead.”

 

“Oh yeah,” Daryl says, remembering the mystery bag. He picks it up and sits in front of them. Carol unzips it and pulls it open to reveal a vast array of food items. “Are we picnicking? Is that what’s happenin’ here? ‘Cause if so you’re not allowed to tell the guys.”

 

“Let’s say it’s less of a picnic, and more that your ravenous, pregnant girlfriend can’t go farther away than ten feet from food before getting irritable.” 

 

“That works,” Daryl says agreeably. “So what do we got in here?”

 

Carol starts removing items one-by-one, narrating as she goes.

 

“Okay, for you I brought a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with that fancy apple jelly I got that you said was probably better than heroin, but that you weren’t going to test the theory, as well as potato chips, and like, half a box of snack cakes.”

 

“And for you?” Daryl asks, smirking already. “What’s on your sandwich?” She glances at him bashfully, and says,

 

“Okay, my sandwich is turkey with cheese, potato chips, pickles, and ranch dressing.”

 

“God that’s disgusting,” Daryl says, laughing. 

 

“Tell them, okay, they’re the ones doing this to me,” she argues, pointing at her stomach. “I also brought myself just a container of peanut butter and honey.”

 

“Chocolate chips?”

 

“...Are you gonna tell on me?”

 

“On our anniversary? That’d be cruel.”

 

“And that’s why you’re the perfect man. Also, I got us sparkling cider, because one, I can’t drink, and two, even if I could I’m apparently old enough to be allowed to have full care and custody of two helpless human beings, but I can’t buy alcohol in the state of Georgia because reasons I guess.” 

 

“Sparkling cider is the shit, anyway,” Daryl says, watching her crack it open and then pull out two plastic red solo cups. He helps her fill them, and then she holds hers out in a toast.

 

“What should we toast to?” she asks.

 

“Dunno,” Daryl says. “To 365 days together?”

 

“Alright. And how about to all the days still left to come?”

 

Daryl smiles. He knocks his cup against hers gently.

 

“Lookin’ forward to every single one.”

 

—-

 

_ May 6th _

_ Friday _

 

“Baby A already looks like you,” Carol says, staring transfixed at the ultrasound machine while a technician runs the wand over her exposed belly. It’s their twenty week scan, and Daryl is more than happy to have an opportunity to see the twins again, and the rhythmic beating of their hearts makes for a pleasant background noise. Daryl tilts his head and examines the 2D picture in front of them.

 

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not ‘cause there ain’t a lot of details to see here,” he says.

 

“I can tell,” Carol says with certainty, and he takes her word for it. 

 

The twins look so different than they did only a handful of weeks ago. Comparatively, they’re huge, and have officially started looking human shaped. The details may be fuzzy, but that doesn’t make it any less awe-inspiring to watch as tiny hands and feet move around on the screen.

 

“Do you want to know the sexes?” asks the technician. Daryl looks to Carol. They’d both decided that there have been so many surprises and guesswork to everything lately—(and in their whole lives, to be honest)—that they didn’t need another one. Still, he waits for her approval just in case she’s changed her mind.

 

“I’m game if you are,” she says. He nods, and she says to the technician, “Go for it.” 

 

Daryl hasn’t given much thought to whether or not the babies are boys or girls. Rick and Glenn have had a bet going on between them, where Glenn is convinced it’s two girls, and Rick insists it’s two boys, and it’s amusing, but he hasn’t really involved himself. It doesn’t matter, he’s said time and again, he’s fine with anything.

 

Which is true, sure, but now that he’s about to know, he finds that there is some excitement there after all. It’s something tangible to associate with them that makes them even closer to being real. 

 

“Okay, well, Baby B is right on display here, so that’s helpful,” the technician says. She casts them a sly smile and says, “B for boy.” 

 

Daryl looks to Carol for her reaction and finds a big grin spread across her face and realizes belatedly that he’s mirroring it. 

 

“Boy,” she says to him, almost in a whisper.

 

“I know, right?” he says. 

 

“Baby A is trying to be tricky, let’s see if I can’t find a better angle.” The technician moves the wand around, and now that Daryl’s heard one, he’s anxious to hear the second. He’s worried she won’t be able to tell them today, but then she gives a satisfied “a-ha” under her breath and turns to them again. “You guys lucked out,” she says. “One of each. You got yourself a girl.” 

 

That’s too much for Carol’s hormones to handle. She starts tearing up and covers her mouth with her hands. Daryl feels like he’s on cloud nine.

 

“Know what that means?” he asks Carol quietly. She shakes her head at him. “It means Glenn can’t keep tellin’ mean I’m gonna get our babies mixed up ‘cause now we know they ain’t identical.” 

 

Carol laughs and lowers her hands. It’s testament to how elated he is that he’s willing to lean down and give her a kiss, even with the technician present.

 

“Boy and girl,” she says. “He and she.” 

 

“He and she,” Daryl echoes with a solid nod. “Excited to meet ‘em.” 

 

“Yeah,” Carol says, taking his hand as a fresh wave of tears fall. “Me too.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yooo, sorry for missing my thursday deadline. brain is still doing the whole "why bother with things?" thing so this took a full week instead of half of one. i might give myself this thursday off too. i'm going on a "fix my brain" trip to the mountains with my partner next weekend so hopefully that'll like...fix my brain? so maybe there will be an update thursday, but definitely there will be an update sunday. thank you for your continued patience.
> 
> only thing on this chapter that i found amusing was that i went back through jumper cables to see what day their anniversary is, and i found out i straight up screwed up a whole lot of dates in that. the date i used here is the accurate one, not the one in jumper cables. i could go back and fix it, but, you know, i'm not gonna. i could lie and say i will, but let's be honest with ourselves.
> 
> think that's it. look forward to more basement ghost soon, as well as other things. 
> 
> <3s for you all,
> 
> -diz


	11. 1,001 Unique Names for Your Unique Child

_ May 6th _

_ Friday _

 

(5:19p) -had our appointment-

 

(5:22p) >Is everyone healthy?<

 

(5:23p) -mhm-

 

(5:23p) -carols sposed 2 gain like 2lbs a week now n after we left she cried abt it sayin shes gna b gigantic n then immediately had me buy her 2 burritos lmao-

 

(5:24p) - _ you sent a photo _ -

 

(5:24p) -thts the ultrasound from 2day-

 

(5:26p) >Whoa, they look way different than that one you showed us before.<

 

(5:26p) ~they look like actual babies instead of weird alien creatures.~

 

(5:27p) -inorite-

 

(5:27p) -we also hafta go 2 the dr more often now cuz twins need more checkups or smthn idk but tht means we get extra pics which is cool bc i rly like seeing them-

 

(5:28p) >Feel free to share with the class, we love seeing our nephews.<

 

(5:28p) ~you mean nieces.~

 

(5:29p) -lmao i kno wut they r now-

 

(5:30p) ~!!!!~

 

(5:30p) >Well???<

 

(5:31p) -hm idk wut do i get if i tell u?-

 

(5:32p) ~oh my god, you aren't seriously gonna make us work for this information are you?~

 

(5:32p) >Just tell us!<

 

(5:33p) ~if you won't we'll just get it from michonne and maggie because i'm sure carol's less of an asshole than you and will actually tell her friends.~

 

(5:34p) -i cud tell her 2 tell them 2 keep it a secret-

 

(5:34p) -unlike u they actually can-

 

(5:35p) >After all we've done for you you're gonna hold this over us?<

 

(5:36p) ~yeah, you know, if it weren't for rick's bathroom and rick's tequila he bought off of jesus you wouldn't even be having twin girls.~

 

(5:36p) >That was autocorrect, he meant to say boys.<

 

(5:36p) ~wrong. they're girls. right daryl? tell me i'm right.~

 

(5:37p) -¯\\_(ツ)_/¯-

 

(5:38p) ~ugggh fuck you. fine, what do you want from us?~

 

(5:39p) -lmfao-

 

(5:39p) -im just fukin w/ u i'll tell u-

 

(5:40p) >You're a monster.<

 

(5:40p) ~asshole.~

 

(5:40p) ~so who's right?~

 

(5:41p) -rick is-

 

(5:42p) >YOOOO!<

 

(5:42p) ~goddamnit.~

 

(5:43p) -dnt b upset glenn bc ur rite 2-

 

(5:44p) ~?~

 

(5:44p) >?<

 

(5:45p) -1 of each-

 

(5:45p) -boy n girl-

 

(5:46p) ~oh yeah! twins can be one of each! duh!~

 

(5:46p) >Rofl, I got so caught up in arguing with Glenn that I totally forgot that was even an option.<

 

(5:47p) -yep n tht means theyre not identical which means i wont mix them up so u can get fuked glenn-

 

(5:48p) ~whatever, i still get the satisfaction of knowing that you were actually worried about that.~

 

(5:48p) ~but fuck man! this is exciting!~

 

(5:49p) >For real, you're gonna have a son /and/ a daughter.<

 

(5:50p) -aksfkakjafh-

 

(5:50p) -son n daughter-

 

(5:50p) -thts new-

 

(5:51p) ~yeah feels different than just calling them “the twins” or “the babies”.~

 

(5:52p) >It's actually neat that there's one of each cuz now we can talk about them as individuals without getting super confused.<

 

(5:53p) -yeah its weird cuz b4 i thot abt them as one thing like a single concept but nows the first time it rly feels like theres 2-

 

(5:53p) -my daughter n my son-

 

(5:53p) -damn-

 

(5:54p) ~i second that damn.~

 

(5:54p) >Thirded.<

 

(5:55p) ~how are you feeling about it all?~

 

(5:56p) -lmao idk its all super crazy-

 

(5:57p) -im feelin rly curious tho ik i feel tht-

 

(5:58p) >Curious about what?<

 

(5:59p) -them-

 

(5:59p) -like wut theyre gna b like or wut theyre gna look like-

 

(6:01p) >Which is which on the ultrasound?<

 

(6:02p) -the 1 w/ the arrow sayin baby a is the girl n baby b is the boy-

 

(6:03p) ~the girl looks like you.~

 

(6:04p) -ok carol said the same thing how tf can u tell?-

 

(6:05p) >She has your face shape.<

 

(6:05p) ~yeah like your nose and brow. i bet she has your scowly eyes.~

 

(6:06p) -p sure u guys r bullshitting me but w/e-

 

(6:07p) ~she’s probably gonna come out looking more like your twin than her actual twin.~

 

(6:07p) >Yeah, jury's out on baby boy's looks, he's too fuzzy.<

 

(6:08p) -ya doc said hes the smaller of the 2-

 

(6:08p) -god it feels weird 2 say tht-

 

(6:08p) -ive only ever tlked abt them at the same time-

 

(6:08p) -istg shit gets realer every day-

 

(6:09p) ~i mean, y'all are officially halfway there. it goes fast. that's what my sisters all said.~

 

(6:10p) -thts horrifying but also like-

 

(6:10p) -i rly wnt 2 meet them?-

 

(6:10p) -i have 2 b introduced 2 my own kids like i alrdy kno them but i actually dnt. everything abt this is weird as shit-

 

(6:11p) >It really is.<

 

(6:12p) ~we’re here for you, though, and we're hella excited to meet them too.~

 

(6:12p) ~ _ dumbass changed the group name to “IT'S A GIRL! BUT PLOT TWIST, IT'S ALSO A BOY!” _ ~

 

(6:13p) >Congratulations, brother.<

 

(6:14p) -thanks-

 

(6:14p) - :) -

 

—-

 

"Hey," Daryl says, coming into the bedroom where Carol is sitting up against the backboard of their bed, dipping carrots in hummus with hot sauce in it, and leafing through a book. He goes and sits on the edge of the mattress and puts a hand on her bent knee. "Whatcha up to?"

 

"I'm looking through that baby naming book Glenn's sister gave us." She holds it up so Daryl can read the title. _1,001_ _Unique Names for Your Unique Child_. The tagline reads, "A book designed to make your special blessing even more special."

 

"Mm, anything worthwhile in there?" Daryl asks doubtfully.

 

"Not even a little bit, but I have learned just how complicated you can make normal names be spelled. And so many unnecessary Ys. Regan was in here."

 

"That's not so bad."

 

"They spelled it R A Y G A I N."

 

"'Kay never mind."

 

"Briar's lucky he ended up with a fairly harmless name if this is what his mom was working with," Carol says, shutting the book with a snap and sitting it on the bedside table. She takes another bite of carrot and through a full mouth, asks, "Speaking of, have you considered the fact that we're responsible for giving our children names?"

 

"Honestly, I kinda been avoiding thinkin' about it 'cause it makes me nervous."

 

"Honey, everything makes you nervous."

 

"You know what I mean, though."

 

"I do," Carol says with a sigh. "It was easier to avoid before we knew what they were. Now every boy or girl name I hear I'm like, 'hm, do I steal that for my child?'"

 

"What if we accidentally give 'em dumbass names and the other kids pick on 'em?"

 

"Please, you know any kid of ours would know how to not take shit from anyone."

 

"Guess that's true." He drums his fingers against her kneecap. "You got any ideas?"

 

"Not'a one." She picks up her phone from beside her and says, "You know what this calls for?"

 

"Hm?" Daryl asks suspiciously.

 

"A round of 'what does Buzzfeed have to say about this?'"

 

"Ugh," Daryl scoffs. "When did you become Glenn?"

 

"They have a quiz," Carol says, tapping on her phone keyboard and ignoring him. "'This quiz will reveal what you should name your baby.'"

 

"'Course they do." He nudges her over so he can scoot up and sit next to her at the top of the bed. He sets her plate of carrots on his lap still within her reach, and leans over her shoulder while they go through the questions, bickering over answers. 

 

_ Pick a nursery wallpaper design. _

 

_ What crib stands out to you? _

 

_ Choose a stuffed animal. _

 

Very scientific stuff.

 

"Hugo or Naia," Carol reads their results aloud.

 

"The fuck kinda names are those?"

 

"Yeah, Buzzfeed dropped the ball on that one. I'm not naming my son Hugo."

 

"Naia is kinda cool but I'd never name my kid that."

 

"Mm, what  _ would _ you name your kid, though?"

 

"No clue."

 

"Here, I have an idea." She leans over and opens the nightstand drawer and pulls out a pen and a piece of scrap paper. She uses Grace's pretentious book to write on, and Daryl watches her make two columns. She labels the first one "THUMBS UP" and the second "THUMBS DOWN". She stuffs another carrot in her mouth and gives Daryl a face that says they're going to get down to business.

 

"We'll look up some random names and if we both don't hate it we'll put it in the thumbs up category, and if one or both hate it we'll put it in the thumbs down," she explains. "See if you can find a baby name generator or something."

 

"M'kay," Daryl mumbles, opening the browser on his phone and doing some googling. "'Kay, I got one."

 

"Alright. What's our first one?"

 

"Um…" It takes him a minute to figure out how to work the website, but eventually he gets a name to pop up. "Leonard."

 

"No," Carol says immediately, jotting it in the thumbs down category. "I hate the sound 'nard' makes."

 

"We could call him Leo," Daryl suggests.

 

"Maybe, but I'd know the truth. Next?"

 

"Jasmine. Nope, can't do that one."

 

"Why? I don't hate it."

 

"Merle lost his virginity to a girl named Jasmine and told me all the details just to make me uncomfortable."

 

"Yikes. Okay, Jasmine's out. Next?"

 

"Phillip."

 

"No. Philip Blake. I'd always remember his shitty Halloween party every time I said my son's name. Next?"

 

"Catelyn."

 

"A girl named Catelyn put a snake in my lunchbox in second grade so now I just assume anyone named Catelyn is a bitch."

 

"A lotta people are named Catelyn."

 

"There's a lotta bitches in this world. Next?"

 

"Scott. Nah, nix that one."

 

"How come?"

 

"Had a neighbor named Scott who used to piss in beer bottles and leave 'em on his porch 'cause he never paid his water bill."

 

"I'm scared to know what he did with his other waste. Next?"

 

"Abigail."

 

"Mom had a nurse named Abby who was rude as hell and never could get an IV in and so my mom's arm was super bruised by the time she left the hospital. Next?"

 

"Edward." He looks up at Carol. 

 

"Nope," they say in unison.

 

"I never knew I hated this many people," Carol says, frowning down at the ever-growing thumbs down column.

 

"I did, I'm just surprised I remember their names. Too bad our families are shitty 'cause then we could just steal one of those names."

 

"Hey," Carol says thoughtfully. "I just realized you've never told me your mom's name."

 

"Josephine," Daryl says. 

 

"Really?" Carol asks, furrowing her brow.

 

"Yeah, I know, sounds real fancy for white trash, right? Real French, too," he adds, nudging her in the side as she snorts. "Used to complain that Dixon didn't fit her name at all. No one called her Josephine, though, they all called her Jo."

 

"Jo could be a boy's name," Carol points out. "Joseph."

 

"Mm, yeah, maybe. She didn't really like the nickname, though. I don't remember a whole lot of our conversations, but I do know that she and my daddy fought like nobody's business, but she said she felt like she remembered why she was sweet on him back in the beginning whenever he called her Josie. Said she loved bein' called that and he was the only one who ever did."

 

"Josie," Carol says, testing it out. "That’s pretty cute."

 

"Yeah, but we ain't namin' one kid after my momma if we can't name one after yours, and Jessica ain't a boy's name."

 

"No," Carol says slowly. "But she never went by Jessica, she went by Jesse."

 

"Jesse, huh?"

 

"Mhm. That could be a boy's name."

 

"And Josie as a girl's name?"

 

"Yeah, except…"

 

"Except what?"

 

"They're so similar. Jesse and Josie. We'd be those parents that name their twins cutesy, matching names."

 

"That's true. Rick and Glenn would never let me hear the end of it."

 

"So maybe not?"

 

"Maybe not."

 

"Nix on the Jesse/Josie idea?"

 

"Yeah, thumbs down."

 

"Right."

 

"Right."

 

The two of them stare at each other.

 

"Or we could put it in a maybe pile?" Carol asks after a beat.

 

"Yeah. Not 'cause we're gonna use 'em, but like, maybe it'd give us some ideas of what we like."

 

"Exactly." Carol makes a little box in the corner that says "MAYBE" and scribbles in "Jesse and Josie."

 

"It's late. Wanna pick this up later?"

 

"Good idea," she says, folding the paper up. "Here, you get in bed and I'll join you in a while."

 

"'Kay. What are you gonna go do?" Daryl asks, shifting over to let her stand up.

 

"Um," Carol says sheepishly, picking up her now empty plate. "I'm gonna go eat a sandwich?"

 

Daryl snorts.

 

"Eatin' for three, right?" he says.

 

"I swear to God, I've never been so hungry in my life."

 

"Go make your sandwich, baby," Daryl says, turning the covers down. "I'll wait up for you."

 

Carol smiles sweetly, and adds,

 

"Don't judge me if I make two."

 

—-

 

_ May 14th _

_ Saturday _

 

The sound of his phone vibrating beside his head on the mattress makes Daryl blink blearily awake. He feels around the blankets until he finds his phone, and groans internally at the caller ID. He glances at Carol, who's curled on her side and dead to the world, letting out tiny half-snores through her pregnancy congestion. Not wanting to wake her, Daryl slips out of bed while swiping up to accept the call.

 

" _ A county inmate is attempting to contact you. To accept the charges press one, _ " the automated female voice on the other line says to him as he sneaks out into the hallway. In the kitchen he hears Henry stir in his crate, but Daryl will deal with him later. He presses one and sits on the couch, waiting.

 

"Daryl?" Merle's voice filters through the receiver and Daryl's hackles are immediately raised. His brother sounds lackluster and exhausted, when usually he's simply brimming to the top with undeserved enthusiasm.

 

"What's wrong?" he asks, trying to think of what could be bad enough to make Merle call.

 

"Nothin', calm your tits. Sorry if I ain't got my usual pep in my step. Consider this your birthday present."

 

"What?" Daryl asks. He hasn't heard from Merle since he told him about the twins. "My present? What are you talkin' about?" Daryl can't think the last time Merle even remembered his birthday, let alone got him a gift.

 

"They let me back into my cell last night. Got to sleep in my own shit bed finally."

 

"I don't follow. Let you back in from where?"

 

"Detox," Merle says, saying the word like it's foul smelling. 

 

"Detox?" Daryl echoes, frozen in place. "You went to detox? What'd you do to get thrown in there?" He flashes back to Merle's last 72 hour stint in detox after Daryl found him almost lifeless and had to call 911.

 

"Didn't get thrown in; went willingly."

 

"Bullshit," Daryl says, frowning at the wall across from him. 

 

"Nah, man, no bullshit." Merle's voice has no bite to it at all, and Daryl can just imagine how sick he's been for the past few nights if he's really been coming down.

 

"Why?" Daryl asks cautiously.

 

"Why'd'ya think?" Merle asks. "It was your terms, wasn't it? If I wanna meet your kids I gotta be clean. So here you go, your older brother's forty eight hours sober, and lemme tell you, I ain't exactly a fan, so these kids best end up bein' fuckin' millionaires or some shit. Support their uncle through his retirement. Get 'em to buy me a yacht. Always wanted me a yacht."

 

He's trying to joke around but his tone is too flat. Daryl hadn't been sure how much Merle was getting his hands on in the pen, but clearly he'd been doped enough to have one nasty withdrawal.

 

"You serious about this?" Daryl asks after he realizes neither of them has said anything for several beats.

 

"About the yacht? Hell yes I'm serious."

 

"You know what I meant."

 

"Hell man," Merle says, and Daryl can  _ hear _ the defeated shrug. "I ain't gotta clue where I'm goin' from here. I feel like I got thrown in a pit full o' hungry lions and they spent the last two days tearin' me apart. But... fuck, I dunno, I'll try, alright? No promises, and don't you come fuckin' near me with no 'your addiction has affected me in the following ways' bullshit, but... Whatever, you know?"

 

"... Aight," Daryl says. It's not at all what he wants to say, but even if he were the type of person to wax poetic about emotions, it would only make Merle pull farther away. His brother clears his throat.

 

"So how are they?" he asks. "Your girl? The lil' ones?"

 

"Good. They're all real good. We uh...found out last week that we got ourselves one of each. Boy and girl."

 

"No shit?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"You got any names picked out?"

 

"We're workin' on it."

 

"You doin' right by that woman? Bringin' home a paycheck? Makin' sure she's provided for?"

 

"Everything I do I do for her, Merle," Daryl says with brutal honesty. "For them."

 

"Damn straight, you do. Don't you go fuckin' up somethin' good."

 

"Wouldn't ever even think to try."

 

"Good. Well, hey listen, I'm gonna let you go. Still feel like shit. You know."

 

"Yeah, no, I get it. Do you, uh...how are you on commissary? Need me to put more money on your books?"

 

"Nah man, don't sweat that. You got more important things to use your money for. I'll live."

 

"Right. Well. I'll let you go then."

 

"Hey, Daryl?"

 

"Mm?"

 

"Just, you know, happy birthday."

 

"Yeah. Um...thanks."

 

Merle ends the call on his end without another word.

 

Daryl sits with his phone in his hand feeling like he doesn’t know how he should be feeling.

 

“Who was that?” 

 

Daryl looks over his shoulder and sees Carol leaning against the wall, her hair mussed and a hand over belly, giving him a bemused frown.

 

“Merle,” Dayl says after a beat.

 

“Yeah?” she asks, coming over to sit beside him. “What did he want?” 

 

Daryl fiddles with his phone in his hands, frowning.

 

“He called to tell me he went to detox and is tryna stay clean.”

 

“Seriously?” Carol asks, raising her eyebrows.

 

“Guess so. Said he was doin’ it for them.” He nods at Carol’s belly.

 

“You don’t exactly sound happy.”

 

“I don’t exactly trust him to stay sober,” Daryl admits. “He never stays clean for long. Longest stretch I know of was two months, and that’s only ‘cause he nearly died. He was right back at it again, though, like his OD never happened.”

 

“Maybe he needed this extra push? Something new to strive for?”

 

“Mm, maybe,” Daryl says, but even as he says it he doubts it. Carol nudges his shoulder and he looks at her. She gives him a soft smile.

 

“He’s got visiting hours tomorrow, right?” she asks and Daryl nods. “What if we went up to see him?”

 

“We?” 

 

“We. Maybe meeting me—seeing that his niece and nephew are real—would help him not use.”

 

“You don’t wanna go there,” Daryl says, shaking his head.

 

“I don’t want to go there, or  _ you  _ don’t want me to go there?” Carol asks pointedly. Daryl twists his mouth and shrugs. She puts a hand on his thigh. “You don’t have to protect me from him, baby. In fact, I want a relationship with him if I can. I want to try and help him get better, for him, but also for you, and for our kids. They don’t have a lot of family. We should do what we can to hold onto the little bit that we got.”

 

“They’ll search you, feel you up, make sure your belly ain’t a ruse to carry in contraband. It ain’t gonna be comfortable.”

 

“Transvaginal ultrasounds aren’t comfortable but I lived,” she argues and Daryl sighs.

 

“It’s hard,” he mumbles. “Tryna think of that part of my life and this part of my life mixin’ together.”

 

“I know,” Carol says. “But I’ll let you in on a secret: it’s  _ all  _ part of your life—the lines are make-believe, and eventually it’s all gonna bleed together, so why don’t we do it on our terms, instead of reliving another family shouting match like you and I had with my dad?”

 

“You really wanna go?”

 

“I do,” Carol says with a nod. Daryl regards her for a long moment until finally nodding back. She smiles and gives him a kiss. “Thank you,” she tells him quietly. “And happy birthday. Don’t worry, I didn’t forget.”

 

He hadn’t thought she had, but it’s still nice to hear. She’s such a bright spot in his life—maybe having some of that shine bleed into the other parts wouldn’t be so bad. 

 

He just hopes it doesn’t do the opposite, and suck out all her light.

 

—-

 

(10:07a) ~happy birch tree!~

 

(10:07a) ~goddamnit, bird day~

 

(10:07a) ~mother fucker.~

 

(10:07a) ~breastmilk~

 

(10:07a) ~what the fuck???~

 

(10:07a) ~you know what? never mind.~

 

(10:09a) >Uh. Anyway. Happy birthday, Daryl.<

 

(10:10a) -lmfao-

 

(10:10a) -breastmilk tho? i think ur fone is possessed by a demon tht is just fukn w/ u @ this point-

 

(10:11a) -also thnx-

 

(10:12a) ~whatever.~

 

(10:12a) ~although, while we're on the topic of possession and other supernatural events…~

 

(10:14a) -ugh cmon its my birthday dnt ruin it-

 

(10:15a) >Don't you mean it's your birch tree?<

 

(10:16a) -yeah sry tht was autocorrect-

 

(10:17a) ~first of all, go fuck yourselves. second of all, daryl, it has officially been Too Long and it is time for you to get your head back in the game. we need to start stockpiling evidence. i've been doing some research on the side but you're the only one with access to ground zero.~

 

(10:18a) -but theres a ghost @ ground zero-

 

(10:19a) ~yes, that's the point.~

 

(10:20a) -dnt like ghosts-

 

(10:20a) -n this 1 wnts 2 steal my son n daughter 4 sum reason-

 

(10:21a) ~all the more reason for us to figure this out! the bet's important, but shouldn't we find out her motives before you wake up to the figure of a woman hovering over your kids' cribs trying to suck out their life force for herself?~

 

(10:22a) -i h8 u so much y wud u put tht in my head-

 

(10:23a) >Counter suggestion: you forfeit now and save us a whole lotta unnecessary time spent researching housing history and the town's criminal background.<

 

(10:24a) ~fat chance.~

 

(10:24a) ~and daryl, just do one thing for me and then you can avoid the basement until we come back for summer break.~

 

(10:26a) -..... wut thing?-

 

(10:27a) ~take pictures of your whole basement and send them to me so i can compare them to some pictures i found that don't have an exact source.~

 

(10:28a) -no??-

 

(10:29a) ~it'll take you like two minutes. just take some pictures with your phone and text them to the groupchat.~

 

(10:30a) -y r u tryna kill me?-

 

(10:30a) -ig 19 is as old as i get 2 b-

 

(10:30a) -when my kids grow up w/out a father u get 2 explain 2 them tht its ur fault-

 

(10:32a) >Rofl. Remember how Daryl had a reputation in school for being a bad boy silent type? Plot twist, he's actually a huge drama queen.<

 

(10:33a) - :/ -

 

(10:34a) ~a huge drama queen who's afraid of his own basement. you never struck me as a, hm, what's the word? pussy.~

 

(10:35a) -im not i just dnt like ghosts-

 

(10:36a) ~yes, because you're a pussy.~

 

(10:37a) -i kno ur just tryna get me mad so i'll do it-

 

(10:38a) >Hey man, we get it. You're a soft delicate flower and that basement is dark and "haunted".<

 

(10:38a) ~maybe i should text carol and ask her to do it.~

 

(10:39a) -do not-

 

(10:39a) -she n the twins r not allowed 2 b close 2 tht ghost-

 

(10:40a) ~i mean, yeah, but if you’re not gonna do it, who else is gonna protect them…?~

 

(10:41a) -gfdi-

 

(10:41a) -k fine i’ll do it but not 2day im not dying on my bday-

 

(10:41a) -i’ll do it tmrrw-

 

(10:42a) ~cool, well just make sure you get those pictures sent to me before you bite the dust.~

 

(10:43a) -choke on dick n die-

 

(10:44a) >What a great friendship we have.<

 

—-

 

Carol takes him out to dinner—the same place she took him last year that he insisted was too expensive. She pays with her card, and it makes Daryl wonder about joint finances, and how they’re going to divide up costs when the babies come, and other things that usually only married couples worry about, but that’s not a road to go down on his birthday, so he bookmarks it for now, and merely thanks Carol bashfully, the idea of being so cared for still foreign even now.

 

“Come around back with me,” Carol tells him when they get home, maneuvering her awkward body out of the car with as much grace as she can muster. Daryl furrows his brow but follows her without question as she leads them to the tiny tool shed they have in what could technically be called a backyard if you are lenient with the definition, but is more like an extension of their ugly, patchy property that just happens to wrap around to the back of their house.

 

“Wanna tell me what we’re doing?” Daryl asks, sticking his hands in his pockets and waiting.

 

“You didn’t think you were going to get through your whole birthday without a present, did you?” Carol asks, and Daryl groans.

 

“You don’t gotta do things like that for me,” he says, which just makes her smile.

 

“Lucky for us that I didn’t do this because I had to, then. I did it because I love you. And you don’t even know what it is yet. You might hate it.” She says it in jest, but Daryl can tell there’s some genuine concern hidden underneath.

 

“You know you could buy me a box of Frosted Flakes and I’d still get all weird ‘cause you did something’ nice for me, right? I ain't hard to please,” he reminds her, and she loosens up some of the tension in her shoulders.

 

“What if it’s store brand Frosted Flakes?” Carol asks, and Daryl snorts.

 

“Well, in that case, fuck it,” he deadpans.

 

“Okay, well, it’s not cereal,” she says, laughing. “But why don’t you open the shed and see if you like it anyway?” She gestures to the shed doors that are covered in flaking white paint and have rusty handles. Begrudgingly, but also with the bit of affection and excitement he gets whenever she goes out of her way for him, he opens the creaky door.

 

Inside, hanging up among the disorderly collection of mismatched tools Daryl has amassed from his home renovations, is a shiny, new crossbow with a festive red ribbon tied around it. Daryl stares at it for several seconds before realizing Carol is beside him waiting anxiously for a reaction.

 

“How?” he asks. He hasn’t looked it over yet, but he can tell at first glance that this isn’t a cheap model.

 

“Asked a few people’s opinions. Axel and Oscar both helped me out. Don’t worry, Axel was on his best behavior.”

 

“His best behavior is still rotten,” Daryl mutters, but there’s no bite behind it. He’s distracted by his new toy. He takes it out carefully from the shed and inspects it. “Carol, this is too much,” he says, noting the high quality of the bow.

 

“You let me decide what’s too much,” Carol says dismissively. “You’re not the only one who’s been setting money aside, and before you say anything about the twins, I want you to know that this has been in the works for a while, and even if it hadn’t, I still think it’s worthwhile.

 

“You do so much for me, Daryl, like, crazy amounts—you always have—so I’m giving you this as a reminder that I want you to take time for yourself as well. I know you were bummed leaving your old bow at your dad’s, and you went out hunting, what? Maybe twice over the season last year? Our relationship is important, and yeah, the kids are gonna be a priority, but you need time to yourself, too, and I want you to know that I’m not just okay with it, but I’m  _ encouraging  _ it, okay?”

 

Daryl shakes his head in awe and gives her a kiss, which is a little awkward between the crossbow in his hands and her pregnant belly out in front, but it doesn’t matter—Daryl knows she gets the idea.

 

“Thank you,” he tells her shyly, in case she needs to hear it aloud as well.

 

“Thank  _ you _ ,” she says. “For everything.”

 

They loiter outside for a while, Daryl explaining to Carol how the bow works, and insisting he’ll show her how to shoot it one day when she’s in a less delicate condition. Eventually, the sun disappears and night falls around them. After Daryl reluctantly puts up his new bow, Carol takes him by the hand and leads him inside.

 

“Go put Henry out on his chain and wait on the couch,” she tells him. “I have one more gift for you.”

 

Daryl is about to object, but she shushes him with a hand to the mouth before he can even form the words. She nudges him along, and with a huff he goes and hooks Henry up outside. Back in the living room he sits on the edge of the couch cushion and clicks his tongue and taps his feet, not sure what he’s waiting for but feeling exceptionally awkward about it nonetheless.

 

“Okay,” Carol says a few minutes later. Daryl turns to se her standing in the entrance to the hallway, wearing a robe and worrying her lip between her teeth. “Before you say anything,” she says with a thread of self-consciousness in her voice. “Let me tell you that this was  _ not  _ my idea, and I am feeling very foolish right now.”

 

“About what?” Daryl asks, trying not to be distracted by the fact that her robe is parted just enough for him to see her cleavage. 

 

“I’d been talking to Michonne and Maggie, and they kept bringing up the fact that you and I had sex for the first time exactly a year ago on your birthday, and they were saying I should do something to mark the occasion. I told them I look like a fat toad, and the merciful thing to do would be to turn off all the lights and spare you, but they were relentless, and then the assholes actually ordered and sent me this maternity lingerie, and Daryl, I look so ridiculous under this, and now that I’m saying it all out loud I am regretting everything, let’s forget this conversation happened and have birthday sex in the dark.” 

 

Carol wraps her arms across her chest like she’s trying to hide. Daryl blinks at her, completely baffled at the suggestion that he could think of her as anything less than drop dead gorgeous, and completely out of his depth to explain the extent of the absurdity to her.

 

“Show me?” he says instead. “Please?”

 

He knows she can read between his words; knows there are reassurances threaded through them. She grimaces but doesn’t object. Instead, she ducks her head and undoes the belt of her robe. Slowly she opens it and pushes it off her shoulders, letting it fall down into a heap on the floor. Her immediate reaction is to shield herself with her arms again, but she appears to think better of it and instead laces her hands together behind her back. She looks up at him nervously.

 

She’s dressed in a black, lace bra that’s built into a sheer, flowy material that drapes over her belly and stops at the top of her thighs, with matching lace panties underneath. She’s got her long curls down and pulled to one side. Every inch of her is the best thing Daryl has ever seen.

 

It occurs to him after several beats of him gaping at her like a dumb fourteen year old boy looking at his first dirty video, that she’s expecting a response from him, and even though he knows that his face can’t be exuding anything but pure want across it, she’s still bouncing her knee nervously, as though every second of silence is another heaping helping of anxiety.

 

In lieu of words, he gets up from the couch and approaches her. She watches him warily, as though he may truly tell her that he can’t stand her body like this and will turn her away, when that couldn’t be further from the truth. He pulls her hands to the front of her and weaves his fingers through hers. He leans in and places a gentle kiss in the dip where her collarbone meets her neck, and she sighs a sigh that’s equal parts pleasure and relief. He takes a step back, their hands still interlaced, and regards her from head-to-toe, drinking her in. He shakes his head and meets her eye with a slight smile.

 

“You’re usually the smart one between us two, so I dunno how you could think you ain’t the most beautiful woman on Earth,” he tells her quietly, and her cheeks light up cherry red.

 

“I looked way different a year ago,” she says to him, like she’s trying to remind him that he used to have better, but he’s not standing for it.

 

“Sure did,” he agrees. “And you was the most beautiful woman on Earth then, too.”

 

“You don’t hafta say nice things to make me feel better. I know I’m being a pain. I just feel silly. I don’t get how you could find this—” she nods at her round belly, “—sexy.”

 

“Carol, when have I ever said things just for the sake of sayin’ them? You know me. I could go a year without sayin’ a word and be just fine, so when I tell you somethin’ it’s ‘cause I mean it. You are  _ so  _ beautiful, and I don’t even understand why a girl like you would ever look at me twice, but goddamn am I glad that you do.” 

 

“You really still think that? Even when I’m like this?”

 

Her cheeks are rounder than they used to be, and she’s thicker from the weight she’s put on. Her skin has a sheen to it that lights up her face, and her hair is glossier than it’s ever been. Her stomach, pressed between them, reminds Daryl of all the work she’s doing every second of every day, nurturing their children until they’re ready for the world.

 

“Especially like this,” Daryl says, and before she can make an objection he starts planting open mouth kisses along the freckles on her shoulder. He sucks gently on her neck, just lightly enough to not leave a mark, and she tilts her head to grant him more access. He remembers where they were a year ago, fumbling awkwardly on a twin-sized bed, trying to figure out each other’s bodies without making fools of themselves.

 

But Daryl is much more confident now than he was then, and even with all the changes he still knows her body almost as well as he knows his own. With his mouth now tracing the line of her collarbone he snakes a hand down her side, over the thin fabric of her lingerie, until his palm is nesting on her thigh. Going slow enough to give her time to object if she wants to, he inches his way along her inner thigh and, pushing the crotch of her panties to the side, slips a finger inside her.

 

She inhales sharply, and Daryl kisses her on the mouth, swallowing the small noises she makes as he slides in another finger. He tangles his free hand in her curls and rests his forehead against hers, the two of them standing stock still with their eyes shut, the only movement coming from Daryl’s hand at her core. 

 

She’s easy to get off lately—a perk to all the hormones—and when she does her knees go weak. She slumps forward, and Daryl holds her upright against him, placing tiny kisses up her jawline. 

 

“This is supposed to be for you,” she says after he’s removed his hand and she’s caught her breath. Daryl smiles.

 

“That was for me,” he says, loving every second of watching her come undone. It’s the intimacy, he’s learned, that makes him love having sex with her—knowing that he’s the one making her feel this way, and vice versa. 

 

“Such a gentleman,” Carol says, giving him a quick and wet kiss. “But my suggestion is we take this to the bedroom and I can see what else I can do for you.”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” Daryl says, mouth dry, and Carol smirks at him.

 

“We’ve gotten a lot better at this, huh?” she asks, and Daryl snorts.

 

“Way better, ‘though we could pro’ly improve on the safe sex part,” he says, putting a hand on her belly, and she bursts out laughing.

 

“A little too late for that now,” she says. She takes him by the wrist and tugs gently. “C’mon, smartass. We got a birthday to celebrate.”

 

He lets her pull him into the bedroom, and he doesn’t feel any less privileged to be hers than he did a year ago, when he was so newly in love.

 

He suspects, and also hopes, that he never will.

 

—-

 

_ May 15th _

_ Sunday _

 

This was a terrible idea, Daryl thinks, as he watches an officer frisk Carol. She doesn’t belong here; the place is too dank and depressing and everything she’s not. If he didn’t know it’d be like fighting against a brick wall to get her to agree, he’d take her by the hand and walk them right back out the door. 

 

Carol, on the other hand, seems unperturbed. She doesn’t blink an eye as she’s checked for contraband, and she walks through the metal detector with her back straight and head high, like she does it every day. She gives him a reassuring smile that doesn’t reassure him, and they’re led to the tiny, grey room, where two chairs have been sat out on one side of the table, and a single chair is sat on the other. 

 

“Calm down,” Carol tells Daryl after they’ve taken their seats, and he belatedly realizes he’s been bouncing his knees up and down so violently the table’s shaking. He stills them and blows out a big breath through his nose.

 

“He can be kinda brash,” Daryl says. “Not great with tact, neither. If he says somethin’ off-color, promise you won’t take it personal.”

 

“Baby?” Carol asks. He meets her eye.

 

“Hm?”

 

“Chill.” 

 

Daryl cracks a small smile in spite of himself, and takes her hand in his. Not long after, the door opens and in walks his brother and his police escort, and it’s too late to turn back now.

 

Merle looks like shit. His eyes are sunken, his skin ashen, and he’s dragging himself like he hasn’t slept in days. Even still, when he sees that Daryl’s brought company with him, he breaks into a grin.

 

“Well shit,” Merle says, looking at Carol. “I didn’t know my baby brother would be bringing the missus.” 

 

Yeah, this will go swimmingly, Daryl thinks with an eye roll.

 

“I’m Carol,” Carol says politely. “Nice to meet you.” 

 

“Likewise, sweetheart. Here, why don’t the two of you stand up so I can look at you nice and proper.” 

 

Carol casts a glance at Daryl, who shrugs defeatedly and gets to his feet. He gives his brother a brief embrace while Carol pushes herself up beside him. Merle gives her a once over and lets out a low whistle.

 

“I’ll be damned, baby brother wasn’t lyin’ after all. Wasn’t no trick to get me sober, you two really are cookin’ up double trouble there.” Merle takes a step towards Carol and for a second Daryl’s worried he’s going to hug her, but instead he just holds out his hand. When she gives him hers he covers it with his free one and looks her dead in the eye. “How you doin’, doll? You feelin’ okay? My baby brother treatin’ you good?”

 

“He treats me better than I probably deserve,” says Carol, and Merle shakes his head.

 

“Nah, girl as pretty as you deserves the world.” 

 

Adjacent to them the officer gives a warning grunt, indicating Merle’s used up his allotted time for physical contact. He smiles apologetically at Carol and lets go of her hand. The three of them sit down, and an awkward silence falls over them as no one is quite sure what to say.

 

“How you doin’?” Daryl mumbles, training his eyes at the table. 

 

“Feel like I got run over by a garbage truck and then got thrown in the back like a bag o’ trash,” Merle says. 

 

“Mm,” says Daryl.

 

“Thank you,” says Carol, and the two brothers look at her. 

 

“Thank you for feelin’ like shit?” Merle asks. He holds up his hand and says, “Excuse my language.” 

 

“Thank you for being willing to feel like shit for us; for them. The only family Daryl or I got that’s worth a damn is my aunt and you, so it would really mean a lot to me if you could be in our lives. So don’t think I don’t recognize the effort you’re putting in. Getting sober’s gotta be a bitch.” She clears her throat and adds, “Excuse my language.” 

 

Merle barks a laugh.

 

“Aren’t you somethin’ else?” he says, shaking his head. “That’s real nice of you to say, sweetheart, I appreciate it. Now you tell me, what are you gonna name these rugrats of yours? ‘Cause I can’t keep goin’ around braggin’ to my cellmates about bein’ an uncle when all I can call ‘em are Boy and Girl.” 

 

Daryl furrows his brow. Does he really boast about him to his cellmates? 

 

“Sorry to disappoint, but we’re as lost as you are. We only got two names that we like and we can’t use them because they’re way too cutesy sounding.”

 

“What are they?” asks Merle. Carol looks at Daryl for permission.

 

“Jesse and Josie,” Daryl says for her. Merle twists his mouth.

 

“Josie?” he asks. 

 

“Like mom, yeah,” Daryl confirms. “And Jesse is Carol’s mom’s name.”

 

In all the years since she died, Daryl has never talked about their mom to Merle, and by the way Merle clears his throat and refuses to meet his eye, it seems like they aren’t about to start today.

 

“Don’t see nothin’ wrong with those names,” he says instead. Carol shakes her head.

 

“I hate when twins have matching names. Or start with the same letter. We’ll have to figure out something else.”

 

Merle smiles at Carol.

 

“I bet you’re a stubborn one,” he says.

 

“Yes,” Daryl says before Carol can answer, and Carol purses her lips and smacks him on the arm, making him laugh. Merle watches the two of them with an unreadable expression.

 

“You’ll tell me when you do figure out the names?” he asks. 

 

“How about you’ll be the first to know?” Carol says. Merle looks uncharacteristically shy.

 

“I’d be honored,” he says quietly.

 

“Good. Now you gotta stay clean, ‘cause I’m not giving you that privilege only for you to fuck it up. If you start having trouble you call me, I’ll talk you straight.”

 

Merle regards her for a long moment.

 

“You got’a deal, sweetheart,” he says. He turns to Daryl then. “Don’t know how you managed to snag this one, but you best be thanking your lucky stars every goddamn night. She’s better than you and me combined. I hope you know that.”

 

“Don’t worry,” Daryl says, looking right at Carol. “I do.” 

 

—-

 

(7:59p) - _ you sent a photo _ -

 

(8:00p) -wut the fuk?????-

 

(8:00p) -why-

 

(8:00p) -why does it look like tht?-

 

(8:00p) -glenn wtf tell me im seeing shit-

 

(8:02p) ~dude!~

 

(8:02p) ~you have a serious orb situation going on in that photo.~

 

(8:03p) -ik but why???-

 

(8:04p) >I’m guessing lens flare is not going to be a viable option for you two.<

 

(8:04p) >It’s a ~~~spooky ghost~~~ you guys!<

 

(8:05p) -stfu rick-

 

(8:05p) ~go fuck yourself, rick.~

 

(8:05p) ~was it just in that corner, daryl?~

 

(8:06p) -ya i took like 5 or 6 n thts the only 1 tht has tht big white orb thing-

 

(8:07p) ~why does that background look so familiar?~

 

(8:08p) >Because it’s Daryl’s basement, and you’ve been there before?<

 

(8:09p) ~rick, i thought you were busy fucking yourself, go away.~

 

(8:09p) ~hold on a minute, let me look something up real quick.~

 

(8:10p) -cool i’ll just wait here in my haunted fukin house-

 

(8:17p) ~!!!!!!!!~

 

(8:18p) -wut y r u doin tht wut did u find?-

 

(8:19p) ~ _ dumbass sent a photo _ -   
  


(8:19p) ~recognize that?~

 

(8:20p) -looks like my basement-

 

(8:21p) ~it is your basement, in 1969.~

 

(8:21p) ~it’s the only part of the house that was still standing after a house fire destroyed the home. and there was one casualty. alice l. johnston.~

 

(8:22p) ~i saw the name before when i went through obituaries but it never stuck out. i did a google search, though, and found more information, including her full name.~

 

(8:23p) -i dnt wna kno i dnt wna kno i dnt wna kno-

 

(8:24p) ~alice lydia johnston.-

 

(8:25p) -nope-

 

(8:25p) >Oh for fuck’s sake.<

 

(8:26p) -so wtf does tht mean?-

 

(8:27p) ~i think it means that the ghost in your basement is this woman who died in the house fire.~

 

(8:27p) ~and i think you just managed to take a picture of her.~

 

(8:28p) -cool time 2 move-

 

(8:29p) ~what i still don’t get, though, is what does she want with your kids?~

 

(8:30p) >Ohhh my goddddd.<

 

(8:31p) -i fukin h8 this-

 

(8:32p) ~i know, but you gotta hang tight, bud.~

 

(8:32p) ~we got a lot more sleuthing to do.~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes that's a real buzzfeed quiz, and yes those are the results i got when i took it trying to pretend to be caryl.
> 
> anyway!
> 
> it feels like i've been gone for ten years. i've missed you! (it's only been like, a week and a half lmao.) sorry for missing sunday, i was driving for like a bajillion and twelve hours and didn't get home until real late, and decided it'd be better to start fresh today. barring any unforeseen circumstances, i think we should be back on our regularly scheduled biweekly, sunday/thursday updates. btw, if i ever miss a deadline, i usually post the reason why on my tumblr, waynedunlaptheorgandonor, under the tag "check engine light", just in case.
> 
> i think that's all. i'm getting back into the swing of things. what will happen next??? who knows???
> 
> (me. i know.)
> 
> k, i'm rambling, byee,
> 
> -diz


	12. Glenn Rhee vs. The Patriarchy

_June 6th_

_Monday_

 

(5:42p) -help-

 

(5:45p) >What's wrong?<

 

(5:46p) -carols been showing me sites w/ bb stuff on them-

 

(5:48p) ~is she going overboard looking at all of it?~

 

(5:50p) -no-

 

(5:50p) -i am-

 

(5:50p) - _you sent a photo_ -

 

(5:51p) -look theres dogs on these bb blankets-

 

(5:52p) >Roflll<

 

(5:52p) ~how deep in this are you?~

 

(5:54p) -i made an amazon wishlist n so far it has 43 items in it-

 

(5:54p) - _you sent a photo_ -

 

(5:54p) -tiny shoes-

 

(5:55p) >Why would a newborn need shoes? They can't walk.<

 

(5:56p) -idk but did u c how tiny they r? cuz theyre real tiny-

 

(5:56p) -god bbies r small-

 

(5:57p) -the dr says the twins will prob weigh less thn other bbies cuz theyll prbly b born early like 6lbs or smthn-

 

(5:57p) -thts like the size of the burritos carol keeps making me get her from the taco truck-

 

(5:57p) -my kids r gna be burrito sized-

 

(5:59p) ~how much is in those burritos, damn.~

 

(6:00p) >Hyperbole aside, that is kind of terrifying. Those are like entire human beings that are lighter than a sack of potatoes.<

 

(6:00p) >How are more babies not like, squashed or misplaced?<

 

(6:01p) ~you think you would misplace a baby??~

 

(6:02p) >Not me specifically. I'm just saying it's very easy to lose small things sometimes.<

 

(6:03p) -k ur not allowed 2 bbysit-

 

(6:04p) - _you sent a photo_ -

 

(6:04p) -c tht? tht lil shirt says i <3 my dad-

 

(6:04p) -thts me-

 

(6:04p) -im the dad-

 

(6:05p) ~make sure you get empowering clothing for your daughter.~

 

(6:06p) -wut-

 

(6:06p) >What?<

 

(6:07p) ~you want to foster a positive sense of self-worth in her at an early age so when she's old enough to fall victim to patriarchal norms she'll be empowered enough to fight back against it.~

 

(6:08p) -wut-

 

(6:08p) >What?<

 

(6:09p) ~i went to an end-of-the-year recruiting party for the "young feminists" club to see if i should be a women and gender studies major.~

 

(6:10p) >What was the verdict?<

 

(6:11p) ~dunno yet, they gave me a list of recommended reading material. i'll let you know when i get through it.~

 

(6:12p) >Okay, so we've got Daryl over here gushing over baby clothes, and Glenn over here fighting the patriarchy. Good.<

 

(6:13p) -wait but wut clothes will make her h8 herself? i dnt wnt her 2 h8 herself-

 

(6:14p) >None of the clothes, she'll be an infant.<

 

(6:15p) ~you know, gendered clothes, like ones that are all pink and purple and say princess on them and stuff.~

 

(6:16p) >You realize newborns can't read, right? I don't think they can see color either.<

 

(6:17p) -i dnt wnt 2 make her feel less than any1-

 

(6:17p) -wut if she thinks i like her brother more bc hes a boy n then she spends her whole life feeling unloved?-

 

(6:18p) >I don't think buying a princess shirt will cause a lifetime of inadequacy.<

 

(6:19p) ~yeah, i dunno, i'm only partially through this judith butler book and i've understood maybe 3% of it, so i'll let you know more once i’m more well-versed in feminist theory.~

 

(6:21p) -ive been thinking abt how 2 take care of bbies but wut abt whn theyre older n r like real ppl?-

 

(6:21p) -wut if they need help writing essays 4 skool im not gud @ those-

 

(6:22p) >But you text so eloquently, how can that be true?<

 

(6:23p) -get fuked-

 

(6:24p) ~probably just focus on one life stage at a time. are we still on for next week nursery painting?~

 

(6:25p) -if u still wnt 2. u dnt hafta help u kno-

 

(6:26p) >Yeah, but we want to.<

 

(6:27p) -not a real exciting start 2 ur summer-

 

(6:28p) ~um, excuse you, we get to be a part of getting your house all baby-ready. i am all about it.~

 

(6:29p) >Same. Plus, if we don't, either you'll do it all by yourself or Carol will try and help and she's not allowed.<

 

(6:30p) ~yes. this summer we are going to assist you in making carol's life as easy as possible.~

 

(6:31p) -tyvm-

 

(6:31p) -her back n legs r hurting her like constantly im not letting her try n paint n move furniture n shit-

 

(6:32p) ~nor should you.~

 

(6:33p) >You got us in your corner, brother.<

 

(6:34p) -ik-

 

(6:34p) -thnx-

 

(6:34p) - _you sent a photo_ -

 

(6:34p) -now look at these lil hats-

 

—-

 

Daryl is balls’ deep in a product review thread for strollers when the front door opens. Daryl quickly minimizes his web browser window.

 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says to Carol, who’s giving ear scratches to an exuberant Henry.

 

“Hello, what are you hiding on your computer?” she asks, straightening herself up the best she can and putting two hands on her lower back. She raises an eyebrow at him.

 

“Nothing,” he says, turning red.

 

“Nuh-uh, I saw you close something. What were you looking at that you’re afraid to show me?” She walks over and leans against the back of the couch, smirking.

 

“Porn,” Daryl says quickly.

 

“Liar,” Carol says, reaching out and trying to snatch his laptop.

 

“Seriously, just a lot of really, you know, nasty porn,” Daryl insists, and she doesn’t buy it for a second. She gives him a stern look and he caves. With a grunt he brings up his browser window again. “Shut up,” he says, before she has a chance to say anything.

 

“Oh my God, how many tabs of baby things do you have open?” Carol asks, laughing. He has many tabs of baby things open.

 

“Shut up,” Daryl says again. He goes to close his laptop, but she objects.

 

“No no, lemme see.” She comes around to the other side of the couch, and Daryl scoots over to make room for her. She kicks off her shoes, puts her swollen feet up on the coffee table, and does grabby hands. Daryl huffs a sigh but hands his laptop over anyway. He watches her click through his multitude of tabs.

 

“We can’t afford all that, obviously, I was just lookin’,” he says. Carol smiles.

 

“Have you been doing this since you got home from work?” she asks. Daryl gives an incriminating shrug and she laughs.

 

“Stop,” he mutters, and she nudges him in the side.

 

“I’m just teasing you. This is actually super adorable. How many guys would get home from a long day at the shop and relax by putting, let’s see...Seven different brands of baby socks in an Amazon wishlist?”

 

“It’s hard to pick stuff, ‘cause I dunno what they’re like.”

 

“How do you mean?”  


“Like, their personalities and stuff. I dunno what kinds of things they’ll like, plus Glenn says I need to find empowering clothing for Not-Josie.”

 

Carol blinks.

 

“Empowering clothing?” she asks.

 

“He’s on some sort of equal rights for women kick or somethin’, I ain’t really sure. But what if we buy all kinds of cutesy shit for Not-Josie, and then she grows up thinkin’ all that matters is her looks?”

 

“Well, first of all, I don’t think Not-Josie or Not-Jesse are going to care one way or another what they’re wearing for at least the first year. From what I gather, babies spend most of their time spitting up and shitting on their clothes anyway.”

 

“Yeah, I guess. I just don’t wanna fuck ‘em up. There seems to be so many ways to fuck ‘em up.”

 

“I think that’s just parenthood, babe. You do your best and hope you don’t scar your kids for life.”

 

“Great,” Daryl deadpans. Carol laughs and gives him a kiss. She pulls away and yawns, rolling her head with a grimace. “Sore?” Daryl asks, and she hums.

 

“Pretty much constantly,” she says.

 

“Here, turn around,” he says, taking his laptop and helping her turn so her back is to him. He starts massaging her stiff shoulders and she lets out a long exhale.

 

“God, I love you,” she says, leaning into the touch and shutting her eyes.

 

“Least I can do,” he mutters. “Sorry you’re hurtin’ so much.”

 

“Par for the course. It’ll be worth it in the end, right? That’s what they all say?”

 

“Mhm, that’s what they say.”

 

She lets him work the knots out of her muscles for a while, Henry curled on the floor beside them, their vigilant Carol-protector.

 

“What _do_ you think they’ll be like?” Daryl asks, breaking the silence.

 

“Well,” Carol says, leaning forward a little so he can rub her lower back. “They’re our kids, so they’ll probably be insufferably stubborn.”

 

“God, they ain’t gonna listen at all, are they?”

 

“Not a chance.”

 

“You think they’ll act the same? Since they’re twins and all?”

 

“No, I can already tell they’re different.”

 

“How?” Daryl asks with a bemused frown.

 

“By the way they move. Whichever one hangs out down here—” she points at the lower right side of her belly, “—kicks pretty consistently and it doesn’t change much. I think that’s Not-Josie. And then Not-Jesse, up in here,” she says, indicating to just below her left rib cage, “does whatever the fuck he wants whenever he wants.”

 

“You feelin’ them more often?”

 

“I feel them all the time. Not-Jesse’s trying to puncture my lung as we speak,” she tells him. The hands on her back still. He hesitates.

 

“...Can I?” he asks, feeling bashful. She peers over her shoulder at him with a furrowed brow.

 

“Of course you can,” she says. “I dunno if you’ll be able to feel it or not, but here.” She reaches behind her and takes him by the wrist. She guides him to a spot adjacent to her navel and they wait. Daryl concentrates hard, and after a few beats he feels two little thumps, one after the other, under his palm, and his heart skips a beat.

 

“Was that him?” he asks, and he laughs when she nods.

 

“I think he just does fucking acrobatics in there. His sister is much more polite.”

 

“Is she moving right now?”

 

“Off and on, here, give me your other hand.” She places his right hand near her pelvis. While she’s doing that, Daryl feels a few more thumps under his left hand.

 

“God, does he do that all day?”

 

“Basically...There,” she says then. “Do you feel that?”

 

Under his right hand he feels a singular, solid thump.

 

“Yeah,” he says, embarrassed at how breathless he sounds. “That’s fuckin’ nuts.”

 

“Tell me about it. I’m glad you can feel them now. I thought it might still be too early. People at work have been trying to feel up my belly all the time, but I haven’t let them because I wanted you to be the first one to experience it.”

 

“Thank you,” he tells her quietly, kissing the base of her neck and resting his forehead on her shoulder. His children move around some more inside her, and once again Daryl is blindsided by the fact that every time he thinks this is as real as it gets, it finds a way to get realer.

 

“They can hear you, too.”

 

“Bullshit.”

 

“No, I’m for real. I was reading about it. They’ll probably recognize your voice when they’re born.”

 

“Seriously?”

 

“Yeah, I guess newborns remember the voices they hear the most in the womb. They’ll know you’re their dad.”

 

Daryl shakes his head in wonder.

 

“I wanna meet them,” he says.

 

“Me too. Partially because I’m sick of being pregnant. My spine might break in half by the time I give birth.”

 

“Is that a subtle way of tellin’ me to rub your back some more?” Daryl asks with a smile, lifting his head up and nuzzling against her cheek.

 

“It wasn’t, but feel free. Actually,” she says thoughtfully. “Food first.”

 

“Mm, I thought it was weird you weren’t in the kitchen yet.”

 

“Not-Josie and Not-Jesse demand the calories, okay? I just do what they say.”

 

“Pro’ly need ‘em after all that movin’ around. What do you want for dinner? Somethin’ normal or somethin’ weird?”

 

“I was thinking spaghetti.”

 

“Mmkay, will you promise to not make me watch if you put ranch dressing on yours again?”

 

“Listen, I’ve lost all control here, alright?”

 

“I don’t get this ranch dressing kick.”

 

“Don’t try and make sense of it, just make sure we never run out of it.”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” he says. “Now here, get up, I’ll help you cook.”

 

“We have Tabasco, right?” she says, awkwardly getting to her feet.

 

“You keep eatin’ all this spicy shit and then wonderin’ why you have heartburn all the time.”

 

“That’s Later Carol’s problem. Right Now Carol wants to put Tabasco and ranch dressing on some fucking spaghetti.”

 

“God pregnancy is weird,” Daryl says, standing up as well. He takes Carol’s hand and they head into the kitchen, Henry close behind.

 

—-

 

_June 7th_

_Tuesday (early)_

 

Daryl can smell smoke coming up from underneath the door leading to the basement. It’s leaking in, a black, billowy cloud, but he knows the flames can’t reach him—he has the door boarded up, planks of wood nailed across it, so nothing can get in or out, including fire.

 

But he can’t find Carol.

 

He can’t find the twins.

 

That is, until he hears the sound of babies crying. It’s a distant noise, but when he presses his ear to the basement door it becomes louder. He hears Carol’s voice; she’s calling for help. They’re stuck in the fire and he’s barricaded them in.

 

Heart leaping to his throat, he pries at the planks, splinters getting shoved underneath his fingernail beds, but he can’t free the wood from the nails hammered into them. He tries to body slam the door, but it won’t budge. Meanwhile, the room around him is growing darker as the smoke envelopes him. He pounds at the door, trying so hard to swing it open, listening to his family’s screams, until they taper off into nothing, and he knows that they’re gone.

 

“Daryl, it’s another dream,” says Carol’s voice somewhere adjacent to whatever world he’s in right now, and with a start he snaps awake. As has become routine, he searches her out first, the room already illuminated by the bedside lamp.

 

“Are you okay?” he asks her. He always asks her that.

 

“I’m fine, baby,” she tells him. She always tells him that. “It must have been a bad one tonight, huh? You were crying in your sleep.”

 

At this, Daryl brings a hand to his face and finds that his cheeks are wet with tears he doesn’t remember shedding. He clears his throat, flush with embarrassment, and gives her a tight smile.

 

“Just a dream,” he says.

 

“Yes. You seem to have a lot of those,” Carol says calmly. “Are you ever gonna tell me what they’re about?”

 

Daryl doesn’t know why he’s so against telling her, even in the daytime, when the nightmares are far away. It almost feels like a jinx; telling her would make her vulnerable, and maybe then he’d lose her for real. He shakes his head.

 

“I can’t,” he says apologetically. “But I’ll talk to Dr. Peterson when I’m at therapy tomorrow. Or, today I guess.” He checks the clock that reads 2:39am. He brushes her hair off her face. “I’m okay. Go back to sleep.”

 

Carol searches his face.

 

“You can tell me, you know?”

 

“I know.”

 

That’s insufficient, he knows, but she accepts it. She twists her mouth, and after a moment’s hesitation, clicks off the lamp and settles back down in bed. She lets Daryl wrap himself around her, as she always does on nights like this, and her breathing evens out long before Daryl’s even properly rid himself of the adrenaline.

 

When he wakes the next morning, he checks the batteries in the smoke detector for the third time in two days, and sends Carol a reminder text to unplug the coffee pot before she leaves for work.

 

Better safe than sorry, or at least that’s his excuse.

 

—-

 

_June 7th_

_Tuesday (normal human hour)_

 

Soccer-Mom isn’t here this week. It’s been hit or miss lately. He’s not sure if she’s just scheduling less appointments or is skipping them, and he’s not about to ask. It throws him off, though, sitting in the stuffy waiting room with blank paperwork on his lap, looking at the empty chair across from him. He sort of misses Ryan. Last week he showed Daryl his new tooth, which was gross but Daryl’d praised him for it nonetheless. He’s also built a polite rapport with Soccer-Mom, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious about whatever it was that brought her here on Tuesday afternoons.

 

But today isn’t the day he’s going to figure that mystery out. He chews on his lower lip, and while he wonders whether or not Soccer-Mom is playing hooky from therapy, his mind reminds him of something he’s been trying to ignore, which is whether or not Carol has been too. He hasn’t pried, because he hasn’t wanted to know the answer. He bounces his leg up and down and reaches into his pocket to grab his phone. He pulls up his text messages and debates for a moment.

 

(11:59a) -wut do u usually put down on tht question on the therapy paperwork abt how much slp uve been getting since ur slp changes all the time? do u even it out to 4 hrs a nite?-

 

His finger hovers over the screen, uncertain, feeling like he’s playing dirty.

 

“Daryl?” says Dr. Peterson, sticking her head into the waiting room. He swallows and presses send. He puts his phone away and follows her to her office, putting the text out of his mind for now.

 

He still sits on the edge of the chair and his eyes are still trained to the floor, but he doesn’t cross his arms this time. One is resting on this thigh, while he chews on the thumbnail of the other. Dr. Peterson takes her spot across from him, and without looking he can tell she’s got on her usual peppy smile.

 

“How’ve you been?” she asks.

 

“Fine,” Daryl grunts.

 

“How are the little boy and girl?” she asks, knowing exactly what to say to get him to talk. He smirks down at the carpet.

 

“They’re good. I can feel ‘em now. Like when they kick? I can feel ‘em. Carol says she thinks our son is doin’ flips and shit in there, ‘cause he’s always movin’ around the most.”

 

“That’s exciting. Makes you realize there’s really something alive in there. Or, I guess in your case, two somethings.”

 

“Yeah, it’s wild.”

 

“And you said Rick and Glenn are on summer vacation soon?”

 

“Mhm. Glenn’s coming home on Saturday night, and then Rick’ll be here the day after his last final, which is Wednesday.”

 

“Are they staying the whole summer?”

 

“Yeah, Rick got someone to sublet his lease for him until the end of July, and Glenn lives on campus during the school year.”

 

“Any big plans? More ghostbusting?”

 

“Ugh, pro’ly. Glenn’s insistent on it. And they’re helpin’ set up the nursery next Friday.”

 

“That’s nice of them. Sounds like they want to be involved with everything that’s going on in your life.”

 

“Yeah, I guess,” Daryl says with a shrug. “For now.”

 

“What do you mean ‘for now’?”

 

Daryl knits his brow together and picks at a fleck of mud on his jeans.

 

“Dunno. Isn’t that a thing when you have kids? Your friends don’t wanna be around you no more?”

 

“Do you think that’s what’ll happen?”

 

“I mean, I hope not, but it ain’t like I’d blame ‘em. They’re both off doin’ normal shit and Carol and me are playin’ house at nineteen. Why would they wanna stick around for that?”

 

“Didn’t you say they call your kids their niece and nephew?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“And they’ve stuck with you so far, haven’t they?”

 

“Mm.”

 

“Maybe it’s something to talk to them about? You’ve been open and honest with them before.”

 

“Sure, but I didn’t wanna be. Open and honest sucks ass.” He smiles a little when Dr. Peterson laughs. “I dunno, I’ll think about it.”

 

“For what it’s worth, I think you would only ever pick out friends that you felt were worthy of it. From what you’ve said, they don’t seem the type to jump ship.” Daryl hopes she’s right. “But we can move past that, if you want. You think about talking to them, and we’ll leave it at that. How’s your sleep been? Still having the nightmares?”

 

Daryl would rather talk about Glenn and Rick.

 

“Eh, sometimes.”

 

“When was the last one.”

 

“...Last night.”

 

“Ah. Same as the others? Carol and the twins dying in a fire?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“What about your compulsive behaviors? Are they getting better or worse?”

 

“Don’t call ‘em that, there’s nothin’ wrong with checkin’ the smoke detector battery.”

 

“Sure, but most people don’t check it multiple times a day.”

 

“Who knows when a battery will die? Plus I usually only check it once. Maybe twice.”

 

“Twice counts as multiple times, you know?”

 

“Whatever.”

 

“May I ask you a question?”

 

“Nothin’ stoppin’ you. Won’t promise I’ll answer it, though.”

 

“What do you remember about your mother?”

 

Daryl looks up at her then with a bemused frown.

 

“Why does that matter?” he asks.

 

“It’s just a question. I’m not asking for you to wax poetic about her, I’m just asking if you have any memories of her.”

 

“I dunno, only a couple.”

 

“Care to share?”

 

Daryl huffs a sigh and thinks.  


“She’d tell me stories before bed sometimes,” he says eventually. “Not from like storybooks and stuff, but word-of-mouth shit she’d heard growin’ up. She grew up in New Orleans and I think she picked up a lotta stuff there. She’d never tell me nothin’ to scare me, o’ course, just stories. She knew a lotta myths and tall-tales, like the Cherokee roses bloomin’ along the Trail o’ Tears, or about the Voodoo Queen, Marie Laveau. She’d sit on the edge of my bed, smoke a cigarette, and tell me a story and then tell me to go to sleep. That’s what I remember most about her.”

 

“Where you close to her?”

 

“I was a lil’ kid and she was my mom,” Daryl says with a shrug. “Ain’t everybody close to their mommas at that age?”

 

“Not everyone,” Dr. Peterson says.

 

“Well, I wasn’t tied to her hip or nothin’, but I didn’t know how fucked up she really was until way later. She was always at least a full bottle in on some wine at any given time, and she and my daddy, they’d go in on each other like you don’t even know, and then she’d lay in bed all day upset and drunk, and have me fetch her cigarettes for her. ‘Fact I’m the one who brought her the cigarettes she burned the house down with. Last thing she asked me to do was to get her smokes and a lighter. She lit one up, thanked me, I went on my way, and then I never saw her again.”

 

As the admission leaves his mouth he tastes acid on the back of his throat. He’s never told anyone that before; hadn’t even thought about it in years; didn’t mean to think about it now. He grimaces, swallowing back the bitter taste of his guilt, and tries to brush it off.

 

“I meant, it was whatever. I was little. Barely knew her. My daddy was the real piece of shit.”

 

When Dr. Peterson doesn’t say anything Daryl hazards a glance up at her. She’s giving him a steady look. He knows what she’s about to ask him and he doesn’t want her to.

 

“Do you think it was your fault, Daryl?” she asks anyway, and Daryl rolls his eyes and then trains his gaze to the ceiling, chewing his lower lip.

 

“It doesn’t matter,” he says, looking back down at Dr. Peterson.

 

“Doesn’t it?”

 

“No,” he says resolutely. “She’s dead; been dead for years. No sense diggin’ up ghosts.”

 

“Funny thing to hear from a ghostbuster,” Dr. Peterson points out. Daryl huffs.

 

“Ain’t the same thing.”

 

“Trying to piece together the past to make sense of the present?” she says. “Sounds pretty similar to me.”

 

—-

 

Daryl doesn’t leave the parking lot right away. He sits on his bike outside of his therapist’s building both wanting a cigarette with all his might, and hating cigarettes in the same instant. Eventually, he stops staring off at nothing and shakes his head clear of all his muddled thoughts. He pulls out his phone to check his messages.

 

He has one missed text from Carol.

 

(12:13p) *Yeah, 4 hours a night is usually what I put down. Your girl needs to sleep more! Maybe after our kids graduate college…*

 

Daryl clenches his jaw and shoves his phone back into his pocket. He presses the palms of his hands into his eyes before pushing back his hair and letting out a long exhale.

 

He doesn’t do his paperwork, but he’s read it. They’ve never once asked about sleep, he made it up.

 

But Carol answered it anyway.

 

—-

 

_June 10th_

_Friday_

 

“Remind me not to offer to help you with things involving furniture anymore,” Glenn says, using a paper towel to wipe blood off his forearm where he scratched himself on the side of Daryl’s dresser. Daryl has the day off, and Team Groupchat is attempting to put together a nursery before Carol gets home at seven, although they’re only an hour in and blood has already been spilled, so that’s not particularly promising.

 

“That’s the most of the furniture part,” Daryl says, making his bed back up with Rick’s help. They’ve just moved everything in Daryl’s bedroom into the tiny bedroom by the kitchen, leaving the twins with most of the space.

 

“Until we have to figure out how to put together two cribs, you mean,” Rick says, wrestling a fitted sheet around the corner of the lopsided mattress.

 

“Well, yeah,” Daryl says sheepishly. “I’ll buy y’all pizza, though, and it’ll be at full price ‘cause we don’t got your discount no more, Glenn.”

 

“What a sacrifice,” Glenn deadpans, examining his wound. “When do we get to paint? I want to paint, that’s the fun part.”

 

“Start bringin’ in the paint shit from out front while me and Rick finish this up.”

 

Daryl’s new bedroom gets properly situated, and he and Rick go to join Glenn in the soon-to-be nursery. All the supplies they need is gathered together in the center of the floor.

 

“I like how my ratty clothes still have less holes in them than your everyday clothes,” Glenn says. He’s wearing an old t-shirt and worn-out jeans, meanwhile you wouldn’t be able to tell if Daryl was about to paint a room or go out to dinner, since he’s dressed pretty much the same as always.

 

“Shut up and start putting tape around the trim,” Daryl says, chucking the blue hardware tape at him. It hits him in the head.

 

“Ow,” Glenn says, scowling. He reaches down to pick up the fallen tape, all while grumbling, “I’m gonna come out of this in pieces.”

 

“‘S’long as the nursery gets done, I’m okay with it,” Daryl says, and ducks before Glenn can smack him with a paint brush.

 

“Why’d you go with this color?” Rick asks a while later, after they’ve started rolling on the greyish-blue paint over the previously white walls.

 

“Carol looked it up and said it’s a soothing color or somethin’,” Daryl says, standing on a step ladder and using a smaller brush to get a corner. “It’s the same color as my therapist’s office, so that’ll be weird to try not to connect the two.”

 

“How’s therapy going, by the way?” Glenn asks, sat on the tarp, painting the lower part of the wall.

 

“I dunno, fine I guess,” Daryl says with a shrug. “I like her well enough. Doesn’t make me talk about shit if I don’t wanna and she says fuck sometimes.”

 

“I figured she had to be good if you’ve managed to keep going this long,” says Rick, painting around the closet door. “How’s Carol like hers?”

 

At Daryl’s snort they both look over at him.

 

“She doesn’t like them?” Glenn asks, and Daryl closes his eyes and sighs.

 

“Couldn’t tell you,” he says, opening his eyes. He frowns at the corner he’s painting and is torn between his hatred of invading Carol’s privacy, and desperately needing their advice. Fuck it, he decides. “I don’t think she’s even going. I think she’s lying to me.”

 

“Seriously?” asks Rick. Daryl hazards a glance their way and gives a humorless smile.

 

“Bullshit, right?”

 

“Major bullshit. After making such a big deal about you going? Why do you think she’s not?”

 

“Dunno, just things not adding up. I ain’t asked her straight out, but I’m pretty sure she ain’t.”

 

“What are you going to do about it?” Rick asks, pouring more paint into the tray.

 

“Fuck, man, I dunno. Pro’ly nothin’?”

 

“Nothing at all?” asks Glenn.

 

“Maybe? I ain’t gonna force her to go.”

 

“But don’t you want to know why she’s lying to you?” asks Rick.

 

“I know why she is,” Daryl says. “‘Cause she doesn’t want me to make her feel bad about it.”

 

“No offense, dude, but that’s a shitty reason to lie to your partner. I say partner now, by the way,” Glenn adds. “The stuff I’ve been reading says it’s a more inclusive term.”

 

“Are you studying feminist theory or cowboy lingo?” asks Rick.

 

“Shut up,” Glenn says while Daryl snorts.

 

“I dunno, I might bring it up eventually. But like, she’s, what, twenty-five weeks pregnant? With twins, no less, at _nineteen_. Plus her dad refuses to talk to her, her aunt is supportive but still kinda weird about it, and she just feels shitty physically like, twenty-four-fuckin’-seven. What would it do to hound her about this?”

 

“Those all sound like good reasons to be in therapy,” Glenn says pointedly.

 

“Yeah,” Daryl says with yet another sigh.

 

“I guess I can understand not wanting to be in therapy, but what bothers me is her lying to you about it. You guys have never been the type of couple to keep things from each other,” says Rick.

 

“I know,” says Daryl.

 

“And honesty is kind of a big thing in relationships,” says Glenn.

 

“Know that too,” says Daryl, getting off the step ladder and tossing his brush onto the ground with a splat. He wipes his hands on his pants and shrugs. “I’ll ask her about it. I will. Just not lookin’ forward to it. For this weekend, though, I’m just gonna let sleepin’ dogs lie. Get shit set up for the babies, and not worry about it. Maybe I’ll ask my Doc’ how I should approach her. That would make her happy, she likes when I actually ask questions.”

 

“Sounds like a good idea to me,” says Rick. Daryl nods. He looks down at his hands and tries to rub off some paint on his palm. He chews on the inside of his cheek.

 

“There was somethin’ else I gotta bring up,” he says, his face going red already. “That the Doc’ asked me to do.”

 

“Yeah?” Glenn asks, both him and Rick looking at him expectantly. Daryl twists his mouth and bounces his leg up and down.

 

“Actually, maybe I’ll save it for the groupchat,” he says, losing his nerve. Both his friends immediately object and he holds up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, shut the fuck up, I’ll say it.” He then says nothing.

 

“Are we meant to hear it telepathically, or…?” Glenn asks, and Daryl scowls at him.

 

“Fine. Doc’ just wanted me to bring up to you my...I dunno, concerns or whatever, that...nah, that’s not how I wanna put that. Um. I guess what I’m tryna say is that if things start feelin’ weird, you know, ‘cause I got kids and stuff, and you guys are off doin’ things people our age are s’posed to be doin’, I don’t want you to feel like you gotta like...stick around.”

 

Both Glenn and Rick have stopped painting and are facing him fully with matching, baffled expressions.

 

“What do you mean?” asks Rick.

 

“God this is stupid,” Daryl says under his breath, grimacing. To them, he says, “I don’t expect you to hang out with me when the kids are here, ‘cause I know it ain’t exactly a college frat party.”

 

“Same amount of barf and shit, though, I’d imagine,” says Glenn. Then more seriously, he adds, “We’re not gonna ditch you, Daryl.”

 

“Yeah, that hasn’t even crossed my mind,” Rick agrees.

 

“Yeah, well, it’s easier to say that when the twins ain’t here yet,” Daryl points out.

 

“Look, dude, I love kids. And I hate frat parties. Hanging out with you, Carol, and your little New Year’s Eve Whoopsies is my idea of a good time,” says Glenn.

 

“I’m excited to spoil the shit out of them,” says Rick. “We’ll be the fun uncles that show up and give them a ton of candy and toys and then you hate us for it.”

 

The corner of Daryl’s lip flicks up at that.

 

“Hey, should I get the thing?” Glenn asks Rick then. “I know we were gonna wait for Carol, but our boy is up in his feelings.”

 

“Go for it,” says Rick.

 

“What are you talkin’ about?” asks Daryl, looking between the two of them with a frown.

 

“Hold on a sec,” says Glenn, sitting down his paintbrush and leaving the room. Daryl hears him go out the front door.

 

“Where’s he going?” Daryl asks Rick.

 

“To his car,” says Rick. He and Glenn had carpooled over to the house. Daryl furrows his brow, but before he can interrogate further, the front door opens again, and Glenn comes back into the room and thrusts a big gift bag at Daryl.

 

“What’s this?” Daryl asks, staring at it.

 

“It’s a pile of dog shit. What’s it look like, idiot, it’s a present. Take it,” Glenn says, shoving it against Daryl’s chest. Tentatively he takes the bag from him.

 

“Why?” he asks, not moving to open it.

 

“Jesus Christ, he’s useless,” Glenn says over his shoulder at Rick, who’s shaking his head forlornly.

 

“Why don’t you open it and we can explain it?” Rick says. “Start with the card.”

 

Daryl eyes the two of them warily, and then lowers himself to the floor. His friends follow suit and they sit cross-legged on the paint tarp. Daryl pulls out an envelope that has, “To our favorite delinquent teens,” written on the front. Daryl smiles a little and then tears the envelope open across the fold.

 

The card inside is handmade out of construction paper, and has “CONGRATS ON FORGETTING TO USE A CONDOM” written in glitter gel pen on the front. He laughs at that, and opens it up. The inside reads:

 

_“Hey dumbasses,_

 

_All jokes aside, we can’t think of two people who belong together more than you, and your kids are gonna be really lucky to have you as parents. We’re excited to meet your tiny humans, and we love you very much._

 

_From,_

_Rick, Glenn, Michonne, & Maggie _

 

_P.S. This is Rick. If you ever make babies again, can you do it not in my bathroom? Thanks.”_

 

Daryl reads over it several times before finally looking up and mumbling a small thank you that he knows Rick and Glenn understand is a lot more meaningful than it sounds.

 

“You’re welcome, now open the thing,” says Glenn.

 

“Yeah, okay,” Daryl mutters. He pulls out the tissue paper and tosses it haphazardly on the floor. He realizes then that he hasn’t had very many opportunities to open gifts, and usually when he does they’re from Carol. He feels some type of way he can’t pinpoint about that, so he brushes it aside and reaches in the bag.

 

Inside there are two big, fluffy teddy bears. One has the number “1” stitched into its belly, and the other has the number “2”.

 

“That’s not the whole gift,” Rick says. “But we all thought that your kids are gonna each need a special stuffed animal. That’s just like, a rule.”

 

Daryl doesn’t mention that he can’t recall ever being given a stuffed animal as a child.

 

“We knew you guys probably wouldn’t throw a baby shower,” Glenn says. “And that you don’t have a ton of family. So the four of us got together what we could and got you a $200 gift card for that baby store downtown. Sorry, I know that probably won’t get you much but—”

 

“Stop,” Daryl says, cutting him off. “Don’t you dare apologize. That’s...this is a lot.” He doesn’t mean the money. He’s staring at the teddy bears, thinking about his son and his daughter carrying them around with them everywhere until the toys are beat up and balding, most of their stuffing long gone from being adored for so many years. It hits him, all at once, just how _loved_ his children are already—so much more loved than he ever was, and they aren’t even born yet.

 

“It’s not as much as you deserve, but I hope it helps some,” Rick says quietly. Daryl doesn’t trust himself to look at them, so instead he just nods with his gaze still trained on the teddy bears in his lap.

 

“Thank you,” he says. He hates himself because he means to say so much more than that, but it’s okay, because they hear it. Carol’s not the only one who’s learned to speak Daryl, after all.

 

—-

 

“Oh my God, you guys,” Carol says, covering her mouth and looking at the nursery.

 

They got the walls painted nicely with the soothing blue, and Daryl used stencils to paint on white roses and orange dog prints in patterns around the room. The cribs, second hand but sturdy and made from a nice oak that Daryl’s buffered into a shine, are sat side-by-side horizontally. Daryl found a matching dresser made of the same color wood at the thrift shop, and it’s sat along the opposite wall, the two teddy bears sat atop it, keeping watch on the cribs. There’s a lamp in the corner next to a rocking chair. There’s space for more—and more will surely come—but for now it’s a calm, homey space that makes their house finally feel like a place where babies can live.

 

And between the three of them, Glenn only bled twice, Rick bruised his knee, Daryl scraped his shin, and not a single one of them had to go to the hospital.

 

A job well-done.

 

“You like it?” Daryl asks, putting an arm around her shoulder. She looks up at him with teary eyes and nods.

 

“So those are good tears and not ‘oh no it’s so ugly’ tears, right?” Glenn asks, and Carol laughs.

 

“Don’t ever pay attention to my tears. Sometimes all they mean is that I can’t find my keys and then Daryl finds them for me ten minutes later in the refrigerator, and I start crying because pregnancy brain has made me insane.”

 

“True story,” Daryl adds.

 

“But no, this is beautiful. You guys did amazing. Thank you so much.”

 

“Our pleasure,” Rick says. “Seriously,” he says, looking pointedly at Daryl, who gives him a small smile and nod in return.

 

They eat leftover pizza for dinner—Carol dipping hers in ranch, which is one of the more innocuous things she’s dipped in it, truth be told—and Carol cries all over again when Glenn and Rick explain the gifts they got. Michonne and Maggie are both going to be home for the summer starting next week, and Daryl is glad Carol will have her friends back in town, because if she’s not going to therapy, at least she’ll have some emotional support in its stead.

 

When things come to a natural end, Daryl walks his friends out to Glenn’s car. The three of them loiter next to it, looking at each other.

 

“Thank you,” Daryl says after a beat.

 

“You’re welcome,” Rick starts, but Daryl shakes his head.

 

“Nah, I mean seriously, thank you. Neither of you had to do this; had to do any of it. It means…” He searches for the words. “I can’t never explain to you how weird it still is to me to know that you guys care about me.” He figures that’s the gist of it. He blushes and hunches his shoulders up, letting them down again with a hard exhale.

 

“We’re best friends, dude,” says Glenn. “The three of us.”

 

“Nothing changes that,” says Rick.

 

Daryl ducks his head and nods.

 

“You know what I was reading about yesterday?” Glenn says then.

 

“I’m afraid to ask,” says Rick.

 

“Toxic masculinity.”

 

“What the fuck does that mean?” Daryl asks.

 

“It means society is telling us we can’t group hug, because we’re guys and guys don’t show affection, but I’m a feminist so I’m making the executive decision that we are going to have a group hug, right here, right now.”

 

“Wait, we’re what?” Daryl says, right as Rick goes, “Sorry, come again?” but both questions fall to deaf ears. Glenn takes them both by one shoulder and pulls them into a crushing embrace. After a moment, Rick wraps his arms around the other two, and, laughing, Daryl does the same.

 

“Down with the patriarchy,” Glenn says once they’ve pulled apart. Rick and Daryl exchange a glance and roll their eyes.

 

“Get off my property, assholes,” Daryl says, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

 

“Remember we’re doing ghost research on Sunday when you get off work,” Glenn reminds him as he goes over to the driver’s side of the car.

 

“Oh, fuck me,” Daryl says. “I’ve changed my mind. I want you both outta my life.”

 

“Love you, too!” Rick says through the rolled down passenger side window. Glenn blows a kiss before pulling out of the drive and heading down the street. Daryl stands there for a minute, smiling to himself.  

 

Doctor Peterson was right: He doesn’t pick his friends lightly, and he’s glad he doesn’t, because the ones he chose? They’re the kind you keep for life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just...really love team groupchat, you guys. i did not start this universe knowing they would be the ultimate brotp, but god am i happy they are.
> 
> anyway, you're lucky i'm updating. not because of any bad mental health reasons. i just started watching game of thrones so people would stop telling me to watch game of thrones, and it turns out game of thrones is hard to stop watching. who knew?
> 
> anyway, that's all for now. until thursday, fuck-os, and remember, don't let the toxic masculinity get you! (i have a minor in women and gender studies, i'm allowed to make fun of it.)
> 
> toodles,  
> -diz


	13. Kill Bill Sirens

_ June 24th _

_ Friday _

 

(8:09p) ~what time is your thing in the morning again? 9?~

 

(8:12p) -ugh yeah-

 

(8:12p) -4 weeks of getting up early on a sat n goin 2 a 3 hr class 2 learn abt how terrifying child birth is-

 

(8:14p) >Isn't Lamaze the exact opposite? Like, it's supposed to make childbirth /less/ terrifying?<

 

(8:18p) -we'll c idk if thts possible-

 

(8:19p) ~what has your doctor been saying about it? you said she was trying to take carol's whole hospital thing into account, right?~

 

(8:21p) -yeah we've tlked abt it-

 

(8:22p) -shes said stuff like using dimmer lites n bringing music tht mite keep her calm so the kids will prob b born 2 fleetwood mac-

 

(8:22p) -the main prob is tht bc its twins the hospital is gna make her give birth in the operating rm n theres like no way 2 make the operating rm not feel like a hospital u kno?-

 

(8:25p) ~why does having twins mean having to give birth in the opera room?~

 

(8:26p) >Because it's a proven fact that opera helps ensure a safe delivery.<

 

(8:27p) ~ -.- ~

 

(8:27p) ~anyway, you know what i meant.~

 

(8:29p) -lmao-

 

(8:29p) -its in case they gotta cut her open which i rly rly hope they dnt-

 

(8:30p) ~i'm guessing twins makes it more likely that she'll have to have a caesar salad?~

 

(8:30p) ~oh for fuck's sake.~

 

(8:30p) ~*caesarean section.~

 

(8:31p) >Autocorrect is on fire tonight.<

 

(8:32p) -id rather her have a salad than a csection-

 

(8:32p) -it freaks me out-

 

(8:32p) -dnt they just cut them open rite there on the table n yank the bbies out?-

 

(8:33p) ~my sister said she hated it, and that it took forever to heal afterwards, but i guess sometimes they're necessary.~

 

(8:34p) ~apparently some people gave her a lot of shit, though, saying she didn't really give birth and instead took the easy way out or something. meanwhile she was taking care of a newborn with half her abdomen stapled together to keep her organs in.~

 

(8:36p) -as usual u r not helping-

 

(8:37p) >Is Carol still set on not using drugs?<

 

(8:38p) -yeah which i get but also tht means she will prob b in a lot of pain n i dnt wnt her 2 b-

 

(8:41p) ~hopefully your fancy birthing class will help make you less freaked.~

 

(8:42p) -yeah bc im so gud @ calming down abt thngs-

 

(8:42p) -i still wish there was sum easier way-

 

(8:43p) >I think literally everyone wishes there was an easier way.<

 

(8:44p) ~we could try some black magic. summon a demon to help us out.~

 

(8:45p) -nah the ghost is bad enuf-

 

(8:47p) >Speaking of, we still on for our pointless thing on Sunday?<

 

(8:48p) ~ouija board!!!~

 

(8:49p) - :/ -

 

(8:49p) -this weekend alrdy sux-

 

—-

 

_ June 25th _

_ Saturday _

 

“We’re like, the youngest ones here,” Carol whispers to Daryl. They’re sat on yoga mats in a big, empty classroom at the very end near the door, while five other couples are seated next to them, making a semi-circle. The instructor hasn’t shown up, which means everyone is making light conversation with each other—well, everyone except for Daryl and Carol, who are actively avoiding small talk, and are instead isolating themselves and judging people together. 

 

The couple closest to them consists of a pretty blonde woman who is well-toned and slender, with only her large belly bump out of place, and her partner who is sat behind her, scrolling through his phone, while the woman talks with the lady on her right.

 

“I’m getting to that point where I can barely keep up my usual exercise routine,” the blonde woman is saying. “Yesterday I was only able to go two miles, and half of that was just power walking.” 

 

“I’m gonna kill her,” Carol says to Daryl under her breath, and Daryl tries to cover his snort with a cough. He squeezes her shoulders.

 

“Don’t. They’ll probably kick us out if you murder anyone, and we already paid for the class.” 

 

“No promises,” she says. 

 

The universe must feel like testing them, however, because just then the pretty blonde turns their way with a nice, white-toothed smile, and asks, “And what are your names?”

 

“Uh, I’m Carol,” says Carol after a beat. “And this is Daryl.” 

 

“I’m Jen,” she says, even though they didn’t ask, holding out a perfectly manicured hand. Carol grasps it and lets go almost at once. Jen offers her hand to Daryl, who drops the shake just as fast.

 

“You look like you’re about to pop! You must be close to your due date,” Jen says, looking at Carol’s belly. Daryl can feel Carol tensing up in front of him.

 

“I’m only twenty-seven weeks, actually,” she says flatly. Jen blinks in surprise.

 

“Oh. Well, you certainly have a big one on your hands,” she says. 

 

“It’s twins,” Daryl mumbles before Carol can sock this woman in the face. Jen looks relieved, as though Carol’s size is any concern of hers.

 

“No wonder, then. A twin pregnancy? I can hardly imagine. You must be starving. I can’t seem to ever get full. I’ve been trying some different snacks. Have you ever made kale chips?” 

 

“No,” Carol deadpans.

 

“Once you get used to them you’ll never want to go back to potato chips,” Jen insists. “But you know what?” she adds in a stage-whisper. “Sometimes I cheat a little and have half a cup of frozen yogurt. Sometimes I even put a little chocolate syrup on top. We all need our guilty pleasures, right?”

 

Last night, Daryl woke up at one in the morning and found Carol eating an entire of sleeve of Oreos in bed.

 

“We sure do,” Carol says, and Daryl can hear her slipping into her bullshitting voice. Class hasn’t even started yet, so this is going to be a very long morning.

 

“So are you two out of school for the summer, then?” Jen asks. They both cast her identical, bemused frowns.

 

“Sorry?” Carol asks. 

 

“The high school got out for the summer last week, didn’t it?”

 

There’s no way they’re going to make it to noon without an all-out brawl, Daryl thinks, quickly taking hold of Carol’s waist, which to others may look like a sweet, casual gesture, but in actuality is him trying to remind her that they can’t afford a lawyer if she goes to jail.

 

“Oh, we aren’t in high school,” Carol says sweetly. “We’re both dropouts. We actually met at the juvenile detention center. Of all the places to fall in love, right? I’m really excited for this class, aren’t you? I’m so glad my parole officer okayed me to leave the house for this.” 

 

Daryl shuts his eyes tight for a second and groans internally. Maybe they’ll learn some breathing techniques today that will calm everybody the fuck down.

 

“Oh, um…” Jen says.

 

“She’s kidding,” Daryl mumbles quickly. “We’re not high schoolers, we’ve already graduated.”

 

Jen looks between the two of them, like she’s not sure who to believe. Carol gives a truly awful fake laugh and says, “Sorry, I like to kid around.” She looks Jen up and down and then adds, “You know, I really admire your confidence.”

 

“How do you mean?” Jen asks, furrowing her brow.

 

“I’ve been so picky about my outfits now that I’m getting big, trying to find stuff that looks cute, but you just have the guts to go out in public in whatever you want no matter how unflattering. Screw people who say we have to look sexy all the time, am I right?” 

 

Dryl pinches her side and she jolts but doesn’t drop the smile on her face that is practically oozing facetiousness. For a split second Jen’s pretty face morphs into a monstrous scowl, but she quickly mirrors Carol’s smile back at her.

 

“Give yourself some credit, Carol,” she says. “I think you must be very confident to come to class in your pajamas. Those  _ are  _ your pajamas, right? Not something you’d wear during the day?”

 

Carol’s wearing an innocuous loose t-shirt and a pair of leggings, and if the clenching of her jaw is any indication, she’s going to accessorizing with steam out her ears at any moment.

 

“I have to pee,” Daryl says, moving to flee the scene, but Carol snatches him by the wrist with lightning fast reflexes before he’s even halfway off the ground.

 

“No you don’t,” she says firmly, and Daryl sits back down.

 

Carol and Jen are staring each other down. Daryl’s pretty sure  _ Kill Bill _ sirens are playing in the distance. Jen’s partner hasn’t looked up from his phone once during this entire exchange, and all the other couples are chatting with each other, perfectly oblivious to the showdown happening in the corner, and Daryl’s certain he’s going to be the only eye-witness to this murder. They wouldn’t make him testify against Carol, right? Isn’t there some kind of law that would forbid it? 

 

Just as Carol opens her mouth to undoubtedly make some brutally passive-aggressive comment, a no-nonsense looking woman in her sixties comes through the door, carrying a handful of books and papers, saying, “Sorry. I’m sorry I’m running late.”

 

Oh, thank Christ.

 

Carol and Jen give each other identical sneers that are probably meant to look like smiles, and Jen finally turns away.

 

“What did I say ‘bout murdering people,” Daryl whispers in Carol’s ear.

 

“She has to die,” Carol mutters back. He drops his head against her shoulder blade and sighs. He imagines Carol’s going to have more than a few choice words to say about Jen tonight, which is unfortunate, because he was looking forward to a peaceful evening of continuing their rewatch of  _ 30 Rock _ without plotting any crimes.

 

“Here’s our itinerary for today’s class. Take one and pass it,” the teacher says, handing a small stack of papers to Carol. She takes the top one and then thrusts the pile at Jen without looking at her, and Jen grabs them from her just as haughtily. Daryl, happy to just have something to keep the two women from interacting, says nothing and instead peers over Carol’s shoulder to read the schedule.

 

The first thing after introductions is a thirty minute live-birthing video, followed by a thirty minute in-depth conversation about it.

 

Daryl officially hates Lamaze class.

 

—-

 

(2:59p) ~how was class?~

 

(3:03p) -rmbr tht time jesus asked me if i wnted 2 have a 3some w/ him n aaron?-

 

(3:05p) >Of course.<

 

(3:05p) ~i will literally never forget that, it gets me through the hard times.~

 

(3:06p) -ya well id rather have a 3some w/ jesus n aaron thn go back to lamaze class-

 

(3:08p) >Damn, that bad?<

 

(3:09p) -we watched 2 videos 1 of a vaginal birth n 1 of a csection w/ no censoring at all i mean zero everything was just out there-

 

(3:09p) -n we had 2 tlk abt them after-

 

(3:09p) -did u kno a 4th degree perineal laceration is whn ur vag rips all the way 2 ur asshole?-

 

(3:10p) -cuz i do n rly wish i didnt-

 

(3:11p) >Brb, texting Michonne to make absolutely sure her IUD is working.<

 

(3:12p) ~did you learn about anything other than vag-assholes?~

 

(3:13p) >“Dear Michonne, we can only do hand stuff from now on.”<

 

(3:14p) -i learned tht carol is fukin terrifing terrifying whn she h8s someone-

 

(3:15p) ~okay but was that really news?~

 

(3:16p) -k thts fair-

 

(3:16p) -but theres this lady in class who hit every button she cud in the course of 2 min n i wud b surprised if we get thru the next few weeks w/out them throwing down in the parking lot-

 

(3:17p) >Two very pregnant women fighting to the death in a parking lot. Talk about viral video status.<

 

(3:18p) -not rly the way id like my fam 2 get famous-

 

(3:18p) -hopefully we nvr r famous tbh 2 much attention-

 

(3:19p) ~would carol win the fight at least?~

 

(3:20p) -duh-

 

(3:20p) >I’m pretty sure if you got Carol angry enough she could win a fight against anyone.<

 

(3:21p) >Hey! Maybe we should get Carol to fight your ghost! Problem solved!<

 

(3:22p) -ur hilarious-

 

(3:23p) ~guys, if you came back as a ghost after you died who would you haunt?~

 

(3:24p) -u-

 

(3:24p) >You.<

 

(3:25p) ~yeah, okay, i should have expected that.~

 

(3:26p) -id haunt lamaze chick who basically called my gf fat n ugly-

 

(3:27p) >Did she seriously? I’m surprised /you/ didn’t start something.<

 

(3:28p) -dnt think beating up a pregnant woman is a gr8 look 2 have-

 

(3:29p) >Fair.<

 

(3:30p) -ugh im rdy 4 this 2 just b ovr-

 

(3:31p) ~only 3 more weeks.~

 

(3:32p) -not just class i mean the whole thing-

 

(3:32p) -i just wnt 2 hold my bbies n have carol feel normal again-

 

(3:32p) -pregnancy is stressful guys-

 

(3:33p) -n im not even the 1 whos pregnant-

 

(3:34p) ~maybe i should tell maggie that we have to go hand-stuff-exclusive too.~

 

(3:35p) >You’re getting close to the homestretch, brother. You guys hang in there.<

 

(3:36p) -we will-

 

(3:36p) -we aint got no other choice-

 

—-

 

_ June 26th _

_ Sunday _

 

Daryl wakes up Sunday morning, no weekend shift today, nor any volatile birthing classes, so he’s free from his usual piercing alarm clock. Consequently, he blinks himself awake feeling well-rested for once. He stretches, rubs the sleep from his eyes, and then rolls onto his side.

 

The spot next to him is empty, Carol already up for the day, but through the partially cracked door to his new bedroom he can see into the kitchen, where Carol is at the sink washing dishes. He props his head up with his hand and watches her.

 

She’s wearing a pair of maternity overalls that are adorable, especially with her big belly out in front. She’s wearing a headband to keep her curls from falling in her face, so instead they’re cascading down the length of her back. Daryl can hear faint music playing, and he can just make out the Fleetwood Mac song she’s humming along to. The morning sun is filtering in from the kitchen window and is casting a golden glow around her like a halo.

 

It’s one of those moments; those types of moments that only come once in a while, and when they do they’re always sudden and prompted by something mundane. It’s that type of moment when you remember how much you love someone; how devastatingly precious they are to you, so much so your heart feels almost too tight from being so full. It’s this kind of moment that makes you think of the first time you met a person, and how you never would have expected to end up where you are now. 

 

How saying, “Hey, you okay?” in a school parking lot one day has somehow led to watching the love of your life washing dishes with your babies inside her on a lazy Sunday morning.

 

Without making a conscious decision to do so, Daryl rolls out of bed and pads across the floor and into the kitchen. “Say That You Love Me” is filtering out from Carol’s phone that’s sat on the counter, and the faucet is running, rinsing soap bubbles off the plate in Carol’s hands, until she shuts it off and sits the plate in the rack to dry.

 

He doesn’t say a word as he comes up behind her and places his hands on her hips. She leans back into his touch.

 

_ ‘Cause when the loving starts and the lights go down, and there’s not another living soul around, you woo me until the sun comes up, and you say that you love me, _ sings Fleetwood Mac.

 

Daryl pulls her hair to the side, kisses the crook of her neck, and puts his hand on her belly. He lets out a huff of laughter when he feels his daughter kicking his palm.

 

Wordlessly, Carol takes hold of his other hand with her damp one and moves it to the opposite side of her belly, and he snorts at his son doing acrobatics by her ribs. He rests his chin on her shoulder and sways gently to-and-fro with her as the babies move beneath her skin.

 

“Good morning,” she says softly after a while.

 

“Mm, morning,” Daryl says, voice gravelly. 

 

“What’s up with you today? You’re being very affectionate.”

 

“Am I usually not?”

 

“Not the ‘morning kitchen dances’ type of affectionate.”

 

“Mm, we ain’t dancin’,” Daryl says.

 

“We’re not, huh? What do you call this then?”

 

“Swaying.”

 

“To music.”

 

“Exactly.” 

 

“And how do you define dancing?”

 

“Shh,” Daryl whispers, and she laughs.

 

“Dork. Seriously, though, what’s up?”

 

“Nothin’,” Daryl says honestly, kissing the crook of her neck again. “Just love you.”

 

Carol hums. She takes his hand in hers and laces their fingers together. She tilts her head to give him more access to her skin, and he makes a small trail with his lips up to the spot just behind her ear. She brings his hands to her chest, and he cups her breasts.

 

This was not his intention when he came into the kitchen, but now that it’s happening he can’t say he objects.

 

He turns her around so that he can kiss her properly on the mouth. It’s long and languid, like a lazy Sunday morning kiss should be. When they pull apart Carol smiles at him and takes both of his wrists in her grasp to lead him to the bedroom.

 

She sits him on the edge of the bed. Then, she stands back and starts undoing the straps of her overalls. They both laugh a little as she struggles to pull the overalls down gracefully over her disproportionate body. She steps out of them and is in front of him in nothing but her underwear and a tight, white t-shirt. 

 

She’s still self-conscious, he can tell, by the way her hands fiddle nervously at the hem of her shirt. Meanwhile, he’s over there on the bed drinking her in and sporting a stiffy hard as a rock, ‘cause she’s just so goddamn gorgeous. 

 

“That piece of shit, Jen ain’t got nothin’ on you,” he says, and she bursts out laughing.

 

With the boost of confidence, she pulls her shirt up over her head. Her bare belly has a dark line that runs straight down the middle, and she has some stretch marks forming on her sides. Daryl wants to kiss every bit of it. She undoes her bra and lets it fall, and slips out of her panties. 

 

_ “Hey, you okay?” _ Daryl asked her nearly two years ago, and now here she is in front of him, naked as the day she was born, heavily pregnant and breathtakingly beautiful.

 

Daryl, who’s only in an undershirt and a pair of boxers, ditches his clothes in record time.

 

He would do whatever she needed for as long as she wanted, but she always likes morning sex to be more about closeness than about cumming. They kiss, their hands all over each other, until, somehow, they’re on their sides on the mattress, Carol’s back flush against his chest, and he takes her like that, slowly, like a Sunday morning lay should be. And he loves her through all of it. Holy God, does he love her.

 

They lay in the afterglow, still spooning, for some time. The room is full of the gentle sounds of the morning. Stevie Nicks is still singing in the kitchen, and Henry is rustling around in his crate. Outside, wind is rustling the leaves, and a rare car drives down their rarely-trodden, isolated road. Daryl traces small circles on her skin, and she rubs his leg with hers.

 

“I wanna ask you something,” Daryl says after a while. “And that’s all I want it to be. I don’t want it to be a fight.”

 

Carol’s leg stills, and she strains her head to look at him, her brows knitted together.

 

“What do you have to ask me that would cause a fight?”

 

Daryl chews his bottom lip. Carol turns herself around so that they’re facing each other, and he pushes her hair from her face.

 

“Why aren’t you going to therapy?” he asks quietly. Carol searches his eyes for a long moment, until she ducks her head and sighs.

 

“Daryl…” she starts, but he shakes his head.

 

“I mean it, I don’t wanna fight. I’m worried, though. Worried ‘cause you’re not takin’ care of yourself...Worried ‘cause you thought you had to lie to me.”

 

Carol plays with the edge of the blanket. 

 

“I tried,” she says finally. “That first day I did actually go. But it was just her and me and I felt trapped, and all I could think of was how much I didn’t want to be there. And I was gonna try again, maybe explain how I felt and see if we could figure out a solution, but I chickened out once, which made it easier to skip the next time, and before I knew it I’d never gone back.” Carol hazards a glance at him. “Are you mad?” she asks quietly.

 

Daryl strokes her cheek absently and shrugs.

 

“A little,” he admits. “Why’d you lie?” 

 

“Because I was a coward,” she says. Daryl shakes his head again.

 

“You ain’t a coward, and even if you was, you ain’t afraid of me, so what’s the real reason?” he asks. Carol snorts.

 

“Always so perceptive,” she says under her breath, and gives him a small smile, which he returns. “I dunno,” she says then, voice heavy. “I guess I didn’t want you to make me go back.”

 

Daryl considers this.

 

“You know I’d never make you do anything you didn’t want to do, though, right?”

 

“I do,” Carol says. “I guess I mean that I didn’t want you to be disappointed and for my  _ guilt  _ to make me go back.”

 

“Oh.” 

 

He says nothing else, even though he can tell she’s waiting for him to come out with  _ something _ , even if it’s anger. But what does he have to say that she doesn’t already know?

 

“I’ve been better lately. I’ve been feeling better. Do you still think I need it?”

 

“Yeah,” he says. “I do.”

 

Carol twists her mouth.

 

“Will you hate me if I don’t go anyway?” she asks, and he cups her chin.

 

“I’ll never hate you,” he says. “But I will think it’s the wrong choice.” 

 

“What if I promise?” she says. “What if I promise that if it really gets bad then I’ll go? I’m just so pregnant, baby, and so exhausted, and I don’t need another thing on my plate.”

 

“Told you I’d never force you. You don’t gotta make me any promises.”

 

“I am, though,” she says. “And if anything about the hospital scares me I promise to tell the doctor. And I promise to listen to her.”

 

“Okay,” Daryl says after a beat. “But no more lying, Carol. That ain’t us.”

 

“No more lying. I swear.”

 

“Okay.” 

 

“Are you still mad?”

 

“Yeah, but I won’t be.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“It’s ‘cause I love you, you know that right? If I didn’t then I wouldn’t give two shits about any o’ this.”

 

“I know. I love you, too.”

 

Daryl leans in and kisses her. Against her lips he whispers, “I ain’t never loved nothin’ or nobody the way I love you. That’s why I need you to be okay.”

 

“I will be,” she says. And even as a passing doubt goes through him, she assures him with conviction, “I promise.” 

 

—-

 

“Maybe having Rick’s name on our asses wouldn’t be that bad,” Daryl says as Glenn clears a spot on the basement floor and sets his ouija board down in the center of the room. “I don’t even see my ass that often.”

 

“Yeah, but then whenever Carol sees your butt she’ll think of Rick. Is that really what you want her to be thinking about when you guys are naked?” Glenn asks while he sets up four candles around the area, making a square. Daryl glances at Rick, who winks at him, and Daryl groans.

 

“Whatever,” he grumbles, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “So tell me how this shit works again.”

 

“‘Works,’” says Rick, making air-quotes. Daryl and Glenn ignore him.

 

“The three of us are gonna sit on the floor around the board and place our fingers lightly on the planchette, and then we ask Lydia questions and hopefully she answers.” 

 

_ “Hopefully,” _ Daryl thinks, doing mental air-quotes.

 

“Where did you even get this thing?” Rick asks, bending down and examining the board.

 

“The toy store,” Glenn says shamelessly. Rick scoffs. “Hey, just because the practice of summoning spirits has been reduced to a sleepover trope doesn’t make it less valid. It just means people are stupid.”

 

“Yes,  _ other  _ people are the stupid ones,” Rick says, straightening up. “Can we get this over with so we can meet the girls at the five dollar theater?”

 

“What are we seeing? I don’t even remember the options,” asks Daryl.

 

“ _ The Exorcist 2 _ , that documentary where that guy eats a ton of McDonald’s for a month, and the second  _ Lord of the Rings _ . We’re letting Carol pick since she’s providing all the snacks and is also massively pregnant and we feel bad.”

 

“She’ll pro’ly be gettin’ up to piss every five minutes anyway, but aight.”

 

He and Rick watch Glenn light the candles, as well as a stick of patchouli incense that does nothing but make the basement reek of patchouli-scented mildew. He then sits criss-cross on the floor and looks up at the others. 

 

“Let’s summon us a ghost, y’all,” he says. Daryl frowns.

 

“Should we call her that out loud?” he asks. “Like, do you think it would offend her?”

 

“Are you suggesting that ‘ghost’ is a derogatory term in the afterlife?” Rick says with a snort.

 

“I’m just askin’, damn,” Daryl mutters as he lowers himself to the floor across from Glenn.

 

“Maybe you’re right,” Glenn says thoughtfully. “What would be the politically correct term? Spirit?”

 

“You’ve finished reading all the feminist theory so now you’ve moved on to ghost theory and the nuances of after-life politics, huh?” asks Rick, rolling his eyes and sitting by the edge of the board in between his friends.

 

“Spirit theory,” Daryl corrects, not wanting to anger any entities.

 

“Jesus Christ,” says Rick.

 

“Speaking of Christ,” Glenn says. “Did you know there are some people who are  _ really  _ anti-ouija boards around here? When I was in the checkout line I got a lecture from this lady who insisted I was going to Hell for playing with black magic.”

 

“I mean...we’re in Georgia,” Rick reminds him. “Bible belt.”

 

“Mm, didn’t think about that,” Glenn says.

 

“Can we get on with this, please?” Daryl asks. “I hate bein’ down here.”

 

“Yeah, okay, put your fingers on the thing like this,” Glenn says, demonstrating by placing his first three fingers on both hands lightly atop one corner of the planchette. With a long-suffering sigh, Rick does the same, and with an audible swallow, Daryl does as well.

 

“Now what? Do we chant? Pledge our immortal souls to the Devil? What?” asks Rick.

 

“No, we’re gonna introduce ourselves and then Daryl is gonna ask Lydia questions.”

 

“Me? Why me?” Daryl asks, alarmed.

 

“‘Cause she listens to you,” Glenn says. “She’s more likely to talk if you’re the one speaking.”

 

“I love how you say these things with such certainty, as though there’s any logic or science involved in this at all,” says Rick.

 

“I don’t wanna talk to her,” says Daryl.

 

“Tough,” says Glenn. “Now first, let’s tell her our names.”

 

“So she knows who we are when she disembowels us,” Rick says to Daryl helpfully.

 

“Shut the fuck up,” Daryl says. “How do we tell her our names?”

 

“Spell them out, I suppose?” Glenn says.

 

“You suppose,” Rick mutters under his breath.

 

Glenn shoots Rick a glare and then says to Darl, “Tell her we’re going to spell our names out to her.”

 

“Fuck yourself,” says Daryl.

 

“Oh my God, just do what he says so we can leave.”

 

“Ugh, fine.” Daryl grimaces and then mumbles, “Uh. Hi. Or, I mean, hello spirit. Spirit? Lydia. Um, me and my friends are gonna try and talk with you. These are our names.”

 

They move the planchette together along the board. 

 

G L E N N

 

R I C K

 

D A R Y L

 

“Now what?” Daryl whispers to Glenn.

 

“Ask her if she died in a house fire,” Glenn whispers back.

 

“Great conversation starter,” says Rick.

 

“Um,” Daryl says louder, addressing the room at large now. “Weird question, but did you like...die in a fire?”

 

They sit in silence, staring at the planchette, which stays stock still.

 

“Maybe less direct?” Glenn suggests. “Ask about the house instead.”

 

“Did the house burn down when you was livin’ in it?” Daryl asks.

 

They wait.

 

Nothing.

 

“Rick, are you concentrating?” Glenn asks.

 

“Not really. I was thinking about how I hope Carol remembers to bring Mike and Ikes candies to the movie theater.” 

 

“Goddamnit, Grimes, focus. It’s important that we all funnel all our energy into the board, and you’re not allowed to sabotage us just because you wanna win the bet.”

 

“I don’t need to sabotage you to win the bet, but whatever, fine,” Rick says with an eye roll. He trains his eyes on the board and says, “I am focusing very hard. All my attention is here. There sure are a lot of letters on this board. Ooh, and some numbers, too. Would you look at that?”

 

“Daryl, tell Lydia to ignore Rick.”

 

“Lydia, ignore Rick.”

 

“Now maybe try asking about what she meant when she talked about her children.”

 

“Ugh, no, I don’t wanna know that.”

 

“It was the first thing she thought to tell us, it must be important. Maybe she’ll be more willing to talk about it.”

 

“God, I hate you,” Daryl mutters under his breath. He gathers what little is left of his nerve and says, “Lydia, what did you mean when you said that thing about, you know, your children or whatever?”

 

They wait. For nearly thirty seconds not a thing happens, and Daryl is about to let out a sigh of relief, because butt-tat aside, he doesn’t really want to talk to a ghost. 

 

Then, without warning, there’s a loud crash, and all three of them jump, turning towards the source of the sound, and watching as a piece of wood paneling along the back wall collapses onto the ground, a cloud of dust flying into the air from the impact. They exchange a glance with one another.

 

“Um,” says Glenn.

 

“I’m out,” says Daryl, getting to his feet and ready to bolt, but Glenn is up in a flash and grabs him by the arm. 

 

“Hold on, we gotta check it out.”

 

“No?” Daryl says incredulously. They most certainly do  _ not _ .

 

“Rick, don’t you think we need to check it out? Even you have to admit that was freaky.”

 

“I think a piece of old wood hanging by a thread gave out at a coincidental time,” Rick says mildly.

 

“Oh c’mon. I saw you, you jumped,” Glenn argues.

 

“Yes, because there was a sudden loud noise and I have human reflexes.”

 

“Oh my God, you are both hopeless. Come on, we’re going.” Glenn tugs Daryl the same way Daryl had to tug Henry down the stairs by his leash that one time he went down here with him. Rick gets to his feet and, with his hands in his pockets, follows them nonchalantly to the corner. Glenn whips out his phone and uses his flashlight to illuminate the area.

 

The piece of wood that fell appears to have been a newer addition, because in its absence there is a small gap between where it was and a concrete wall that was standing behind it. Glenn shines the light on the concrete wall and it reveals that there are several black marks on it. Charring, Daryl realizes, the wall is charred.

 

“What’s that?” Daryl asks, bringing his voice back from wherever it was running off to with his balls. He points to the far corner where there’s something paper-like stuck between the wood panel and the concrete.

 

“Here, hold this,” Glenn says, handing his phone to Daryl. Daryl holds it up for him as he moves deftly through the small space and contorts his body until he reaches the mystery object. Rick and Daryl watch him work the object from where it’s been pinned, careful not to damage it. He manages to free it and he climbs back over to join them.

 

Wiping dust and cobwebs off his clothes with one hand, Glenn holds up the object to examine it with the other. Rick and Daryl lean over to see as well.

 

It’s a photograph.

 

In the sepia photo there is a young woman, a few years older than them, with her long hair pulled to the side in an elegant braid. She’s smiling wide, her arms looped around two laughing children, one girl and one boy. The boy is five or six and is missing his two front teeth. The girl is a couple years younger, and has a blanket clutched to her chest.

 

“That woman looks familiar,” Rick says, squinting at the photo.

 

“That’s because we’ve seen her before,” says Glenn, looking up from the picture and frowning at them. “When we went through all those obituaries.”

 

“Don’t say what you’re gonna say,” Daryl groans, pressing the palms of his hands to his eyes.

 

“That’s her,” Glenn says, ignoring him. “That’s Alice Lydia Johnston. And those must be her children.”

 

—-

 

_ June 27th _

_ Monday (early) _

 

Smoke is billowing out of the windows of his house, black as the night around it. The flames are as orange and as hot as they ever are, licking the structure until the paint turns to ash and nothing is left behind but char. Inside there are babies crying, and their mother is screaming with them. Carol and his children are dying again.

 

Daryl stands outside in the driveway watching, motionless. 

 

“Why aren’t you helping them?” comes a voice. Daryl turns his head and finds a woman standing beside him. In the dark she looks more like a silhouette, and he can’t make out any features on her. Still, she seems familiar. 

 

“I can’t, I can’t find the key to the door,” he tells this shadow woman. 

 

“I’ll show you where it is,” says the shadow woman, beckoning him to follow. He trails behind her as they approach the burning house, and then suddenly the shadow woman disappears entirely from view.

 

“Where’d you go?” Daryl asks.

 

“The key’s right here.”

 

“I can’t see you, I can’t see where you’re pointing.”

 

“If you get the key you can save them.”

 

“I can’t  _ see _ you.”

 

He searches wildly around him—for the shadow woman, for the key—until the roof of the house crumbles, and everything goes silent, and once again they’re gone.

 

Daryl wakes himself this time, blinking his eyes to focus in the dark room. Moonlight shines through their window and over Carol’s sleeping form. He watches the rise and fall of her chest for a long while, her breathing being the surest sign of life if he knows any, before he dares to shut his eyes again.

 

No fires or shadows return to him for the rest of the night.

 

—-

 

_ June 28th _

_ Tuesday _

 

Ryan toddles over to Daryl the moment he sees him and wraps his arms around his leg. Daryl grins and gives the kid a pat on the back, as he mumbles hello. He looks over to find Soccer Mom smiling warmly at him, giving a little wave, and he returns it. Her face is brighter today, the bags under her eyes not as severe. She’s even put some makeup on.

 

“You’re his favorite part of the day,” Soccer Mom tells Daryl, as Ryan takes him by his finger and leads him over to the chairs. Daryl tosses his paperwork onto the table and it is instantly forgotten.

 

“Well you’re pretty alright yourself, lil’ dude,” Daryl tells Ryan. He takes a seat and lifts him up onto his lap. Ryan looks at Daryl’s shirt.

 

“Green,” he says, pointing at it. Daryl grins at him.

 

“Heck yeah, you got it,” he says, holding his hand out in a fist and waiting for Ryan to bump it with his own. The fistbump earns Daryl several giggles.

 

“How’s your girlfriend doing?” Soccer Mom asks. Daryl huffs.

 

“Uncomfortable,” he says. “Real uncomfortable all the time.”

 

“Does she have a body pillow? Those were an absolute lifesaver for me.”

 

“Nah,” Daryl says, glancing over at her. “I’ll look into that. Thanks.”

 

“Of course. It must be getting pretty close now.”

 

“‘Bout two months? Give or take? Hard to tell with twins.”

 

“You freaking out yet?” she jokes. 

 

“Pfft, I been freakin’ out since day one,” Daryl says. He ruffles Ryan’s hair and adds, “‘Though, ‘s’long as my kids are half as cool as this dude, I think we’ll be just fine.”

 

Soccer Mom ducks her head and lets out a small breath of laughter.

 

“Yeah, he’s pretty cool, huh?” she asks softly. The smile fades from her face and she meets Daryl’s eye for a split second and she’s surprisingly distant.

 

“Daryl?” Dr. Peterson says, breaking the moment of...he’s not sure exactly? He doesn’t mention it. Instead, he gives Ryan a shoulder squeeze and a promise to see him again soon, before sitting the toddler back on the floor and casting a wave to him and his mom.

 

In her office he sits on the edge of the seat. Today his hands are in his lap, and instead of on the floor, his eyes are trained on the wall just adjacent to where Dr. Peterson is sat in front of him.

 

“I have somethin’ I wanna talk about today,” he tells her before she has a chance to say anything.

 

“Really?” she asks, surprised. “Well, by all means.” 

 

Daryl knits his brows together and tries to arrange the words into something comprehensible. 

 

“You know a couple weeks back,” he says after a stretch of silence. “When you asked me what I remembered about my mom?” 

 

“I do,” says Dr. Peterson.

 

“Well, I been thinkin’ about that every now and then, and I really don’t got many memories at her at all, and some of the ones I do have I don’t know if they’re even real. And she didn’t leave nothin’ when she died. I mean, not a damn thing. Only thing I got is one shitty picture of her, and it wasn’t even hers. Some distant relative of mine set up some pictures at the altar at her funeral, and I stole one of ‘em.” 

 

“What happened to all her things?”

 

“I mean, most everything got lost in the fire, and the few things that didn’t, my daddy either pitched or pawned for drugs. When I tell you it was like she was erased, I mean she almost straight up just disappeared entirely.” 

 

“So where have these thoughts been taking you?”

 

“I dunno, where most thoughts take me nowadays. Makes me think about the kids. Like, with these nightmares I been havin’, and with Carol still not knowin’ if she’s sick, it makes me wonder what the kids will be left with if we’re gone, you know?”

 

“What do you want them to be left with?”

 

“More than a picture they five-fingered and some weird as fuck bedtime stories.”

 

“Okay, so what can you do to make sure they’re left more than that?”

 

Daryl chews his bottom lip and thinks.

 

“Carol’s momma,” he says thoughtfully. “She knew she was dyin’, so she left Carol all these notebooks with letters in them. I dunno what most of ‘em say. Carol’s only read a bit of it—she still ain’t at a place to do that, I don’t think—but I guess that’s one way. I can’t write to save my life, though. Can’t do none of that flowery language shit, and it’s a miracle I can spell anything.”

 

“Why would your letters need to be flowery?” 

 

“Well, I don’t want them to be shitty.”

 

“Who says they’d be shitty? Look at it this way: You could write the most beautiful, poetic letter anyone has ever read, but it wouldn’t do anything to serve your purpose, because that isn’t you. If you want your kids to be left with something to truly know you as a person, then  _ show _ them who you are as a person, instead of who you think you should be.”

 

Daryl drums his fingers on his thighs and frowns.

 

“Might be easier to just leave ‘em my motorcycle.”

 

Dr. Peterson smiles.

 

“You can certainly throw that in, as well.”

 

—-

 

Draft

 

_ Dear Not-Josie and Not-Jesse, _

 

_ Wait I can’t write that because those aren’t your real names I don’t know your real names yet never mind I’m starting over. _

 

~~_ Daryl _ ~~ _ Dad _

 

Draft

 

_ Hi I hate starting these things with dear whoever cuz  _ ~~_ its _ ~~ _ it’s real formal and why would I be formal with my own kids? Shit you know what I started writing this and never actually thought about what to say in it. Let me think about it for a bit and come back to it.  _

 

_ K I went and made your mom a grilled cheese and ranch sandwich which was gross but I didn’t think of anything so I guess I’ll try this again later. Sorry I’m a  _ ~~_ dumbass _ ~~ _ dumbbutt.  _

 

_ From, _

_ Your Dad _

 

Draft

 

_ Hey, _

 

_ I’m tryna think about what I would want to know about my mom or what you might want to know about me. I think the biggest thing is knowing that I love you and am proud of you. I am both of those things and you never have to worry that I’m not cuz there ain’t nothin you could do that would make me feel any different. I want you to hear that cuz I didn’t hear it for almost my whole life until I met your mom and Uncle Glenn and Uncle Rick.  _

 

_ Ok this is kind of depressing let’s try this one more time. _

 

_ Love, _

_ Dad _

 

Draft

 

_ Hey kiddos, _

 

_ Imma start by saying that I’m no good at writing. Never have been. Hopefully  _ ~~_ your _ ~~ _ you’re better at it cuz your mom taught you how. She taught me how once too but even still I only ever got a B- on an essay so whatever I guess.  _

 

_ I don’t know if you will already know this, but your mom and me met in high school cuz she drove a real  _ ~~_ shitty _ ~~ _ bad car and she needed my help jumping her battery and somehow after that we fell in love with each other and one thing led to another and that’s how you happened. Ask your mom about how exactly that works ok I’m not gonna say that stuff in a letter. _

 

_ You might have questions about your grandparents when you get older and this is just my first letter so I ain’t gonna go on and on with all those stories but what you gotta know is that sometimes family isn’t always good. I hope that’s something that surprises you cuz I want you to spend as much time as possible thinking the world is nothing but love.  _

 

_ But listen, bad things have happened to me and bad things have happened to your mom but if those bad things never happened then we never would have met you  _ ~~_ to _ ~~ _ two and so I guess that means things balance out. So even if you do have bad things in your life I want you to remember that  _ ~~_ there _ ~~ _ they’re just setting up the good things and to hold on.  _

 

_ I want to be around until you both are grown with your own houses and  _ ~~_ familys _ ~~ _ families but if I’m not or if your mom is not I want you to always know that we love you very much and are very proud of you. Like as long as you don’t start killing and eating people I can’t think of no reason why that would ever change. And even if you did kill and eat people we probably would still love you but like we might make you stay in prison. But we’ll come visit. _

 

_ I kind of forgot where I was going with this. I told you I can’t write. This is the longest thing I’ve written since I graduated high school.  _

 

_ I dunno. I’ll write more for you but I had to start somewhere. It’s  _ ~~_shit_ _crap_~~ _ not great but better than nothing right? _

 

_ I love you both with everything I got to give forever. _

 

_ Never forget that, _

_ Dad _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jen made me So Mad when i was writing her, i wanted to fight her too. 
> 
> there was something else, but i can't for the life of me remember it, so oh well ig?
> 
> until sunday, my loves.
> 
> deuces,  
> -diz


	14. Shadow Woman

_ July 8th _

_ Friday _

 

(6:39p) *Save me.*

 

(6:42p) -lmao hows bb shopping w/ ur aunt goin?-

 

(6:44p) *Not worth leaving work early for.*

 

(6:44p) *Kinda hoping I go into labor so I have an excuse to leave.*

 

(6:45p) -nah doc says we gotta aim for 37 weeks so they gotta cook a lil while longer-

 

(6:45p) -find a diff excuse-

 

(6:47p) *That's so many weeks from now.*

 

(6:48p) -less thn 2 months we'll get there-

 

(6:52p) *Easy for you to say, you don't pee when you laugh.*

 

(6:52p) *I mean, I hope you don't.*

 

(6:53p) -i dnt-

 

(6:56p) *My aunt keeps trying to bring up my dad and I keep expertly side stepping it.*

 

(6:56p) *"So your dad…" "Hey look over here at this cute onesie!"*

 

(6:59p) -ud think she'd kno better-

 

(7:01p) *You would. And yet.*

 

(7:06p) *Omfg, if ONE more person says the words "you look like you're about to pop!" I am gonna...well, cry in the bathroom, probably.*

 

(7:06p) *But it'll be a really menacing cry.*

 

(7:08p) -ilu?-

 

(7:11p) *My aunt has been standing here comparing breast pumps for five minutes.*

 

(7:11p) *Couple questions for you, auntie.*

 

(7:12p) *1. Why are you more obsessed with baby shopping than I am when I'm the one having the babies?*

 

(7:12p) *2. Why are you thinking so hard about my boobs?*

 

(7:12p) *And 3. Do you not realize WIC is gonna give me a free pump so if you're gonna buy us stuff how about something government assistance doesn't already have covered?*

 

(7:14p) -speaking of we're tlking abt breastfeeding in class 2mrrw i looked @ the packet-

 

(7:17p) *Great, I can't wait to sit and listen to Jen talk about her perky breasts for three hours.*

 

(7:17p) *I bet you the rest of the leftover chocolate muffins I made that she'll ask the teacher about whether or not breastfeeding will make her start to sag.*

 

(7:19p) -if u think im making any bets w/ u where if i win i take food from u then ur outta ur gd mind-

 

(7:19p) -i value my life 2 much-

 

(7:19p) -ull say its ok 4 me 2 eat them n then i'll wake up in the middle of the nite w/ u smothering me 2 death-

 

(7:24p) *I wouldn't suffocate you over a muffin.*

 

(7:25p) -wut abt over all the lemon shit u got-

 

(7:26p) *Hahaha…don't touch my fucking lemons. :) *

 

(7:27p) -i wont i told u i value my life-

 

(7:27p) -btw ur not sneaky i found the bottle of lemon juice in the nitestand-

 

(7:31p) *It's for my water. You know I'm supposed to drink a gallon of water a day.*

 

(7:32p) -yeah but i also woke up n saw u drinking it from the bottle-

 

(7:34p) *...Shut up.*

 

(7:35p) -hey im just glad we're past the ranch dressing thing tht was bad-

 

(7:35p) -imagine the 2 cravings 2gether ud b putting ranch on lemons-

 

(7:39p) *........*

 

(7:40p) -gdi i was kidding-

 

(7:41p) * :) *

 

(7:42p) -carol no-

 

(7:43p) *Carol yes.*

 

(7:44p) - :/ -

 

(7:44p) -r u gna do tht weird thing u did where u peeled the lemons like oranges n ate them straight like tht? only itll b worse bc ull b dipping them in ranch?-

 

(7:46p) *Very likely, yes.*

 

(7:47p) -k i'll try n prepare myself 2 c tht-

 

(7:52p) *What's worse, that, or the birth video from class?*

 

(7:54p) -mm hard 2 say-

 

(7:54p) -prob the birth video but only cuz i had 2 watch it as a grp activity in a rm full of women who r abt 2 go thru tht same thing n i was both uncomfortable n guilty-

 

(7:59p) *K but I also might put tabasco on this concoction too.*

 

(8:02p) -nvm u win-

 

(8:02p) -also whn u have crazy heartburn l8r im not gna feel sry 4 u-

 

(8:06p) *Liar.*

 

(8:07p) -ur rite i literally went 2 go make sure we had tums rite after i sent tht-

 

(8:09p) *Lol! I don't deserve you.*

 

(8:10p) *Coming home soon, btw. Aunt went overboard. She's a bit of a pain but we owe her big time.*

 

(8:12p) -wut does overboard mean here?-

 

(8:13p) *She got me a bunch of new clothes that actually fit since I am definitely gonna stop fitting in my normal maternity shit soon.*

 

(8:13p) *And she bought like 200 diapers.*

 

(8:14p) *Shitton of baby essentials. Clothes, bibs, burp rags, bottles, bottle cleaners, tiny lil nail clippers, pacifiers, etc.*

 

(8:14p) *And these:*

 

(8:14p) * _ carol sent a photo _ *

 

(8:15p) -damn those r rly nice car seats-

 

(8:18p) *I know right? Apparently she did all this research on car seat safety, which led to a horrifying discussion on internal decapitation (thnx for that auntie, as if I wasn't scared enough about all the ways my kids could get hurt), but she insisted on getting us this specific brand even tho the price made me gag.*

 

(8:19p) *She straight up dropped several hundred dollars on us, babe, she got us p much everything we were still missing for when the babies come home.*

 

(8:19p) *We got those first couple weeks covered.*

 

(8:20p) -tell ur aunt ty from me n tht we'll have her ovr 4 supper or smthn-

 

(8:23p) *You're actually encouraging us to have a social gathering at our home with family?*

 

(8:24p) -least i cud do she didnt have 2 do tht 4 us-

 

(8:25p) *I know. I tried to put back like everything she grabbed but she wouldn't let me.*

 

(8:25p) *Accepting help is weird.*

 

(8:26p) -having ppl who wna help is weird-

 

(8:29p) *Makes me feel better about first-time parenting, though. Maybe we're not as alone as it feels sometimes.*

 

(8:30p) -safety nets we 4get r there-

 

(8:30p) -like our support system is 4 broke teenagers, a felon whos a recovering addict, n a wine drunk aunt, but at least they luv us-

 

(8:31p) -idk cud b worse-

 

(8:32p) *Could be a lot worse.*

 

(8:32p) *Is it possible to be highly traumatized and really lucky at the same time?*

 

(8:34p) -must b-

 

(8:34p) -cuz thts xactly wut we r-

 

—-

 

_ July 9th _

_ Saturday (early) _

 

He smells it before he sees it this time, the scent of burning wood. From outside in the back of the house, where he holds his shiny crossbow in his hands, he hears the popping and crackling of flame. But he doesn’t hear the smoke detector—he must have forgotten to check the battery. Carol doesn’t know the battery is dead, and he knows that she and the babies are sleeping soundly, unaware that the house is being engulfed around them. He has to warn them; he has to get them out.

 

The bow clatters to the dirt, and he runs to the door. The handle is scorching hot and the flesh on his hands blisters at the touch, but he doesn’t let go—can’t stop trying to turn it open—but it’s locked from the inside. 

 

“You need the key.” It’s the Shadow Woman, her face still obscured.  _ But she’s still so familiar, _ Daryl thinks. But there’s no time to try and place her, not while his family is dying.

 

“I don’t know where it is,” Daryl tells her in a panic, his hands still melting to the brass of the door handle. “Can you show me where it is?”

 

“You know where it is,” says the Shadow Woman.

 

“No I don’t,” Daryl begs.

 

“You do.”

 

“Goddamnit, no I don’t!” he yells, ripping his charred hands from the knob. The Shadow Woman vanishes at once, and Daryl wakes with a start, the bedside lamp straining his eyes in a way that he’s become accustomed to.

 

“You don’t what?” Carol asks groggily from beside him, frowning in concern, sleep lining her face. Daryl blinks at her as he reorients himself.

 

“What?”

 

“You were saying, ‘no I don’t,’ in your sleep. What did you mean?”

 

Trying to stem the beating of his heart while listening to her at the same time, Daryl takes a minute to put her words together. When he does he shakes his head.

 

“Nothin’, it doesn’t matter.” He swallows hard. “I’ll be right back,” he says, making to leave, but she places a hand on his shoulder.

 

“Wait, where are you going?” she asks.

 

“Need to check somethin’,” he says, and her face falls.

 

“Baby, you’re not checking the smoke detector again, are you?”

 

Daryl’s cheeks grow hot. He hadn’t realized that she’d noticed. He’s tried to only do it when she’s outside or at work.

 

“Just real fast,” he mutters. Carol furrows her brow at him.

 

“At this rate you’re gonna wear the battery out just by testing it all the time.”

 

Well fuck, that certainly doesn’t help his anxiety.

 

“It’ll only take a second.”

 

“You’ll wake up the dog.”

 

“I’ll take him outside.”

 

“Daryl…”

 

“Let me?” he asks, wincing at the crack in his voice. “Please?”

 

Carol searches his eyes and sighs.

 

“Okay,” she says quietly. Flush with relief, Daryl leans in and kisses her forehead.

 

“Real fast and then we can go back to sleep,” he assures her. She nods, and Daryl chooses to ignore the wary look in her eye.

 

In the hall he reaches up to press the test button on the smoke detector, and a blaring beeping bounces off the walls, placating him for now. He turns it off quickly, and takes a now whining Henry out to his chain.

 

On his way back to bed, Daryl makes a stop in the kitchen. He checks the stove top and the oven; the coffee maker and the slow cooker. He checks the extension cord in the living room and holds it in his hands to make sure it’s not overheating. In the bathroom, he moves Carol’s hair dryer to the opposite side of the counter from where the outlet is, as though it may plug itself in when his back is turned.

 

Back in his room, Carol’s already dosing. She mumbles something intelligible when he crawls back into bed. Daryl reaches over her to the nightstand, and tries not to fret over the heat coming off the lightbulb as he turns the lamp off with a click. 

 

—-

 

_ July 9th _

_ Saturday (normal human hour) _

 

Daryl, exhausted and grumpy, has been sitting on the floor on a yoga mat in a stuffy classroom full of pregnant women all talking about their breasts for the past hour and a half when he’s finally temporarily freed when the teacher declares it break time.

 

“You wanna get up and stretch?” Daryl asks Carol.

 

“Yes, please,” she says. Daryl gets to his feet and goes in front of her, holding his hands out. She takes them in hers and they perform the arduous task of pulling her unbalanced body into a standing position.

 

“Alright?” he asks her once she’s off the floor.

 

“Yep, I’m good,” she says. She raises her arms above her head and grimaces when her back cracks.

 

“Here,” Daryl says, coming around behind her and massaging her shoulders while she rolls her head slowly to try and work out some of the tension.

 

“Thank you,” she says gratefully. He grunts in response, which makes her ask, “Are  _ you  _ okay?” 

 

“I’m fine, babe, just tired,” he tells her, cupping her cheek for a second reassuringly. “Didn’t fall back to sleep after…”

 

“I’ve been sleeping like shit, too,” Carol says, graciously not making him finish his sentence. “Wanna put on a Lifetime movie and nap all day when we get home?” 

 

“Absolutely,” Daryl agrees. A passing thought comes to him then and he groans.

 

“What is it?” she asks.

 

“I just thought about how nice it’d be to have a cigarette right now.”

 

“Oh man,” Carol says. “You’re so right.”

 

“You realize smoking is incredibly detrimental to your babies’ health don’t you?” 

 

Both Carol and Daryl look over at Jen, who is awkwardly pushing herself off her mat while her husband plays on his phone, oblivious.

 

“I think everyone knows that,” Carol says, watching her struggle and making no moves to help.

 

“Well,” Jen says once she’s finally straightened herself out. “I just overheard you two talking and I just got concerned is all.”

 

“We don’t smoke,” Carol says flatly. “We both quit a long time ago, not that it’s any of your business.”

 

“Oh. I’m glad to hear it. I just want you to be as healthy as possible, what with your two little ones and all.”

 

Daryl gets a twinge of irritation that he pushes aside with an eye roll and continues to massage Carol in silence.

 

“How selfless of you,” Carol deadpans.

 

“No need to be rude,” Jen says, rolling her shoulders with a scowl. 

 

“Yet you keep talkin’,” Daryl mutters under his breath. Jen doesn’t seem to hear him, but he knows Carol does because she chokes on her own spit and has to pass her laugh off as swallowing down the wrong tube.

 

“Your guy is so sweet to you,” one of the other women—Heidi?—says to Carol just then as she waddles towards the door. Maybe-Heidi grins at Daryl. “We’ve all noticed, you know. You’re always giving her back rubs, and bringing her snacks, and you’re always taking notes during the lectures. Plus you look at her like she’s the prettiest thing in the room. You should teach your own class for all the men here; show them how to treat their pregnant ladies.”

 

Daryl gives a tight smile and ducks his head, praying that Maybe-Heidi will leave right now immediately, while Carol laughs.

 

“He should, but he’d hate it. He’s not a fan of public speaking.” She cranes her neck to smile at him. “Or talking in general,” she adds. “But he bought me lemon drops on the way here because I forgot mine at home, and if that’s not love I dunno what is.”

 

“You’re both so adorable,” Maybe-Heidi says, shaking her head as though she simply can’t handle it. “Now, excuse me. I swear my bladder’s the size of a golf ball nowadays. Guess that’s par for the course, if you’ll pardon the pun.”

 

“Oh God, why did you say that?” Carol groans. “Now I have to go.”

 

Maybe-Heidi laughs and gestures at the door. Carol steps away from the massage, gives Daryl a squeeze on the arm, and heads to the restroom with Daryl’s new fanclub member. Daryl stuffs his hands in his pockets and stares at the floor, not wanting to give anyone the impression that he wants to talk to them.

 

“So what do you do for a living, Daryl?” Jen asks from beside him, because she’s either oblivious to social clues, or is an asshole. Or both, he supposes. He glances at her.

 

“Mechanic,” he mutters.

 

“Oh, that’s nice,” she says with a grating smile. “My sweetie Rob here, he works in sales. He’s only two promotions away from a transfer to the headquarters in Atlanta, which would would be a 35% pay raise on top of his already lucrative salary. The sweet thing works his tail off so I don’t ever have to lift a finger. I’m lucky that I’m going to be able to spend all my time with our new little boy.” She pats her belly. 

 

“Cool,” says Daryl. He goes back to staring at the floor.

 

“Is Carol going to be a stay-at-home mom?” Jen asks, working expertly on Daryl’s last nerve.

 

“No.”

 

“Oh, that’s too bad.”

 

Daryl bristles.

 

“She don’t wanna be one.”

 

“Oh, trust me,  _ every  _ woman wants to stay home caring for their children. It’s just maternal instinct. That’s okay, though, don’t feel bad. Maybe down the road you’ll make enough and she won’t have to work.”

 

“‘Cuse me?” Daryl asks, snapping his head up and squinting at her.

 

“No no, I don’t mean it like that,” Jen says with a dismissive wave. “I just meant that you’re both so young that it makes sense that you would both have to work. I’m sure money’s tight. But it’s fine. You just need that experience for those high paying jobs, and then you’ll be good to go. I mean, hard to do with kids, of course, but I’m sure you’ll manage.”

 

Daryl stares at Jen, not able to fully comprehend that someone could be so casually out of line. He’s  _ so  _ tired, and  _ so  _ not in the mood to entertain this—not that he’s good at the passive-aggressive games Jen and Carol play, anyway.

 

“Jen,” he says calmly.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Shut the fuck up.”

 

Jen’s mouth drops open and she holds a hand to her chest. She turns to her husband, who’s still sat on the ground ignoring them, and says, “Rob.” Rob doesn’t look up. “ _ Rob. _ ”

 

“Huh?” Rob says, finally noticing his irate wife.

 

“Did you hear what this man just said to me?” she asks, which is stupid, because of course he didn’t.

 

“Uhh,” Rob says, looking at Jen, to Daryl, and back again. 

 

“He told me to shut the F-word up,” she hisses. 

 

“Oh,” says Rob.

 

“ _ Well? _ Aren’t you going to do something?”

 

Rob looks at Daryl, sizes him up, and seems to come to some sort of conclusion. He turns to his wife and says, “Baby, if I fought everyone who told you to shut the fuck up then I’d probably have no teeth left.”

 

It takes every ounce of Daryl’s self-control not to laugh.

 

Jen lets out an honest-to-god screech of anger, making everyone in the room, who had thus far been oblivious to this exchange, turn and watch as she marches out of the room in a huff. In the doorway, she comes face-to-face with Carol, who looks at Jen’s red and fuming face in surprise. Without a word, Jen knocks into her as she shoulders past, and her stomps can be heard echoing down the hall. Daryl looks at Rob, who seems unperturbed.

 

“She’ll get over it,” he says, shrugging as he goes back to his phone.

 

Up at the front of the class, the teacher clears her throat and says calmly, “Well, let’s all just get back to our seats and move on, shall we?”

 

There’s and awkward shuffling as everyone goes back to their mats. Carol walks over with a hand on her belly and whispers, “What was that all about?”

 

“I dunno,” Daryl says. “I guess I’m bad at making friends.”

 

“Did you do that to her?” she asks, a wicked grin spreading across her face. Daryl shrugs, and Carol lights up like it’s Christmas. “Tell me everything,” she demands.

 

“Break’s over,” Daryl reminds her. “I’ll peel you some lemons and tell you later, but first we gotta learn ‘bout proper latching technique.” 

 

“How dare you placate me with lemons,” Carol says as Daryl helps guide her back down to the floor.

 

“That’s lesson one of my class,” Daryl says in her ear. “How to cure everything with food.”

 

He kisses the top of her head and takes a seat behind her, his hands falling to her waist and the teacher restarts the lesson. He reads the handouts over Carol’s shoulder, listening to every word, the yoga mat beside them blissfully empty for the remainder of class.

 

—-

 

_ July 10th _

_ Sunday _

 

“Okay,” says Rick with a sigh, walking into the library and pulling out a seat at the table Daryl and Glenn are seated at and plopping down. “What was so important that I had to postpone plans with my girlfriend to come hang out with you much less sexy losers?”

 

“Dunno,” Daryl says, sitting backwards in his chair with his chin resting on his arms. “He wouldn’t tell me ‘til you got here.” 

 

“I wanted to show you together,” Glenn says, his laptop open in front of him and a glittery, pink gel pen in his hand. “It’s a fun breakthrough in our sleuthing.”

 

“Of course it is,” Rick says, rubbing his temples. “You know, I could be having sex right now.” He looks over at Daryl who shrugs.

 

“Carol was dipping lemons slices in ranch and eating them whole when I left, so actually this is fine,” he says. 

 

“That’s fair,” Rick says, while Glenn wrinkles his nose in disgust.

 

“Anyway,” Glenn says pointedly. “May I present to you my latest discovery.”

 

Glenn turns his computer around so Daryl and Rick can see the screen. He has a browser pulled up with a picture of a middle-aged man with thinning hair on the top of his head, and too much hair in his nose. When Glenn doesn’t elaborate further, Rick says,

 

“‘Kay, I’ll bite. Who am I looking at?”

 

“This, my friends, is Larry Johnston. He also happens to be Alice Lydia Johnston’s son.” 

 

“He’s alive?” Daryl asks, furrowing his brow.

 

“I mean, why wouldn’t he be. He was just a kid in that picture we found. Judging by the time frame I wouldn’t think he’d be all way way over the hill or anything,” Rick says.

 

“I know, but I guess I just assumed Lydia’s kids died in the fire,” Daryl says, eyeing the picture on the screen. 

 

“All the news articles I found only cited one fatality,” Glenn says. “And clearly her son lived. I couldn’t find anything on her daughter, but it might be because she married and changed her name or something.” 

 

“Okay, so you found your ghost’s son,” Rick says. “Good sleuthing, but what exactly are we supposed to do with this information?”

 

“Well,” Glenn says slowly. “I found an address and it just so happens that Larry Johnston lives out in the country only a half hour outside of town.”

 

“No,” Rick says flatly. “We’re not gonna go harass some old guy about his dead mom.” 

 

“We won’t harass him. We’ll just ask him what happened.”

 

“For what reason? Why will bringing all that up for him make your ghost hunt any more valid?” 

 

“Because if we can finally get a whole picture then maybe we can understand Lydia’s motives.” 

 

“Oh for Christ’s sake,” Rick groans. 

 

While the two bicker, Daryl continues examine Larry’s face. 

 

“We should go,” he says, interrupting the two of them. They both stare at him.

 

“Seriously?” Rick asks. “I figured you’d be on my side for this one. You hate talking to strangers.”

 

“He understands the importance of the mission,” Glenn asks, but Daryl shakes his head.

 

“If he tells us shit about the fire then cool, but that’s not why we should go,” he says. 

 

“What do you mean?” asks Rick. “Why should we go?”

 

“The picture,” Daryl says. “We should go give him the picture.” 

 

“I’m all for you being on my side, but why the picture?” asks Glenn. “You really think it’s that important?”

 

Daryl looks at the table and shrugs.

 

“The literal only thing I got of my momma is one single picture. Everything else either burned up or is long gone.” He forces himself to look up at his friends. “If it were me I’d want it.” 

 

Rick, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair, lets out a defeated sigh, while Glenn gives a sympathetic smile. 

 

“Let’s do it, then?” Glenn asks. 

 

“Mhm,” says Daryl.

 

“Fine,” Rick says with an eye roll. 

 

“Hell yeah. Oh, but let’s make sure we’re careful approaching him,” Glenn adds. “I found that picture in our county’s rifle association website.” 

 

“Fantastic,” says Rick. “Let’s go get shot by some old guy in order to return a picture and learn about a make-believe ghost.”

 

“That’s the spirit,” Glenn says. “Literally.”

 

—-

 

Larry Johnston’s house is about as impressive as Daryl’s, which is to say that it’s falling apart. There is paint peeling off the siding, and one of the windows is boarded up. If it weren’t for the maintained lawn and tiny herb garden by the stairs with no railing leading up to the front door, it would be easy to assume the house was foreclosed on or condemned. 

 

“Good, this is good,” Rick says as Glenn pulls off the gravel road into the long stretch of dirt driveway. He parks a good distance away from the house, and neither Rick nor Daryl object. His two friends appear off-put by what’s in front of them, but truth be told, this is more up Daryl’s alley than the nights he’s spent at Rick or Glenn’s middle-class houses. He’s not afraid like they are—whoever this Larry person is, Daryl figures they’re cut from the same cloth.

 

“C’mon,” he mutters to the others, opening his door. Rick and Glenn exchange a glance, but follow suit. They let Daryl lead the way. The three of them pause awkwardly at the base of the stairs. Daryl turns to the other two. “Well?” he says. 

 

“Go for it,” Rick says, and Glenn nods nervously. Daryl bites back a laugh at his friends’ concern. 

 

He steps up the rickety stairs and bangs on the screen door, where a big “NO SOLICITORS” sign is hanging up. From inside, he can hear a dog barking, and the shuffling around and grumbling of someone. He steps back down and stands with his friends and they wait.

 

After a minute, the main door swings open, and the man from the photograph is suddenly staring back at them through the screen. He regards the three of them with a bemused scowl.

 

“Can’t you read?” he asks gruffly, tapping on his sign.

 

“We’re not soliciting, sir” Glenn says, and Daryl snorts a little at his shaky voice. Much as he hates it, he’s going to have to be the one to have this conversation.

 

“You Larry Johnston?” Daryl asks, squinting up at him as the sun is starting to set behind the house. 

 

“Who’s askin’? You from collections?”

 

“We look like we’re from collections?” asks Daryl. Larry looks the three of them over again and huffs.

 

“Guess not. Yeah, I’m Larry. Whaddya want?”

 

“Name’s Daryl. These are my friends Rick and Glenn. They’re a couple prissy assholes, but they’re harmless.”

 

“Hey,” Glenn mutters under his breath.

 

“Alright,” Larry says suspiciously. “And what can I do you for, Daryl and your prissy asshole friends?” 

 

“I live a bit south of here, in a lil’ piece of shit house just barely on the outskirts of town. I think it might be your old childhood place? Sound familiar?”

 

Larry purses his lips.

 

“It might. Why?”

 

“It burned down in ‘69, right? Then they rebuilt it?” 

 

“Pfft, yeah they rebuilt it. Shoulda just let it stay ash, though. They ruined the place. Ugly as shit after that.”

 

“Yeah, it ain’t much better now neither.”

 

“Why you askin’ me about this, kid?”

 

In response, Daryl reaches into his pocket where he’s folded the old photo just once down the middle. He opens it and tries to flatten it. He steps up the stairs and holds it out to Larry.

 

“Think this might belong to you,” he says. 

 

Larry looks at the photo the same way Daryl had looked at Glenn when he offered him the gift bag, as though he’s trying to find the catch. After a minute he unlocks his screen door and pushes it open with a creaking sound. He takes the photo from Daryl and stares at it for a long moment.

 

“Where’d you find this?” he asks finally.

 

“My basement. It’s the only original part of the house left. It was tucked behind some plywood.” He pauses and then adds, “That’s your momma, ain’t it?”

 

“Yeah,” Larry says softly. He looks up at Daryl then, his eyebrows furrowed. “You drive all the way out here just to give me this?”

 

“Yeah,” Daryl says. Larry blinks at him.

 

“Why?”

 

“‘Cause,” Daryl says, shrugging. “I lost my momma in a fire when I was real little, too, and I only got one picture of her. If someone had another one I’d wanna have it. Figured you might, too.” 

 

Larry chews on the inside of his cheek.

 

“Awfully kind of you,” he says like he doesn’t quite know what to say, which Daryl can relate to.

 

“Ain’t nothin’,” he says. He makes like he’s about to leave and then pauses. “Hey,” he says slowly. “You ain’t gotta say, ‘cause it ain’t really none of my business, but what happened back then? With the fire I mean. Everything we looked up was real vague.”

 

Larry casts his gaze away from Daryl and shrugs.

 

“It was stupid,” he says dismissively. “Little sister and I got ahold of some matches and were playin’ with ‘em down in the basement when I accidentally caught some paper on fire and couldn’t get it out. It spread real damn fast. That’s the thing they don’t show in movies is how damn fast fire moves. 

 

“Anyways, my momma heard us hollerin’ and she opened the door to the basement. She ran down and huddled us up and pushed us to the stairs, but the fire cut her off. She just kept tellin’ us to run so we did, right out the front door, flames at our heel, and when the fire department came they said she never got out of the basement. Daddy wouldn’t even look at us for weeks after that, and when he did it was usually only so he could aim his belt. 

 

“Eventually we was grown. My sister’s in North Carolina with her kids and grandkids. I stayed here and took care of our daddy ‘til he passed, and have been holed up here ever since. Life just happens and you live it, you know?”

 

“Yeah,” Daryl mutters. 

 

“Well, thank you for this,” Larry says, holding up the photo in his hand. “Means a lot.”

 

“Yeah,” he says again, and then adds, “Sorry. You know, about your mom.” 

 

Larry nods.

 

“Sorry about yours,” he says.

 

—-

 

_ July 12th _

_ Tuesday (early) _

 

There are two houses side-by-side. On the right is his house, with his tiny stoop and patchy grass. On the left is his childhood home, where his toy dump truck is left out on the driveway and there are empty beer bottles on the lawn.

 

Both of them are engulfed in flame, and Daryl is just staring. He doesn’t make to move. He doesn’t scream. He just watches, with his hands limp at his sides. 

 

“Why aren’t you helping them?” asks the Shadow Woman who appears from nothing. 

 

“Because I can’t,” Daryl says. “I never can.”

 

“You know how,” she says, but Daryl shakes his head.

 

“I only know how to start fires, I don’t know how to put them out.”

 

“They’ll die.”

 

“I killed them.”

 

“Not if you save them.”

 

“I  _ can’t _ .” He looks at the Shadow Woman, tears in his eyes. “I can’t,” he says again, almost inaudibly. 

 

The Shadow Woman says nothing before getting whisked away in the wind. Daryl turns back to the front and watches his houses burn.

 

—-

 

_ July 12th _

_ Tuesday (normal human hour) _

 

Daryl arrives on time for therapy, but he sits in the parking lot on his bike until it’s a minute past noon. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone. He kissed Carol that morning and left before she could engage him in conversation, and he has no desire to see Soccer Mom, or play with Ryan. He especially doesn’t want to talk to Dr. Peterson, because that’s the whole point of her. He hasn’t felt right since he left Larry Johnston’s house two days ago.

 

Which is, of course, exactly why he should go to therapy today. 

 

He sits on his bike a minute longer, his mind a pendulum, swinging between the words “GO TO THERAPY” and “DITCH”. Then he thinks of Carol, and how he criticized her decision to deal with her problems on her own, and the hypocrisy fills him with enough guilt for him to swing his leg off his bike and go inside the psych building, even though eating a plate of ranch-dipped lemons sounds more appealing. 

 

“I’m late,” Daryl mutters at Jamie the receptionist, who gives him her usual look of disdain. Before she can say anything, though, Dr. Peterson walks down the hallway.

 

“I thought I heard your voice,” she says with a smile. “I thought you were playing hooky on me. Wanna head back?” 

 

“Mr. Dixon hasn’t done his paperwork,” Jamie says then. Dr. Peterson gives her a pitying smile.

 

“We pick our battles in this world, Jamie,” Dr. Peterson says, and takes Daryl down the hall.

 

Daryl sits all the way back in his chair, brings his legs to his chest, his muddy boots flat on the seat, and he rests his head on his knees. He hears Dr. Peterson sit down and can feel her regarding him.

 

“This is new,” she says. 

 

“Mm,” says Daryl.

 

“How have things been?”

 

“Mm.”

 

“Wanna give me a little bit more to work with, bud?” 

 

Daryl doesn’t say anything for almost a full minute, and Dr. Peterson lets him. Finally, he lifts his head and looks her dead in the eye.

 

“Did I kill my mom?” he asks. Dr. Peterson blinks in surprise.

 

“Do  _ you  _ think you killed your mom?” she asks, but Daryl shakes his head.

 

“No, c’mon, don’t do that,” he says, scowling. “Don’t turn this into some lesson. Just be straight with me. I gave her the cigarettes that she burnt the house down with. Does that make it my fault, yes or no?”

 

Dr. Peterson seems to ponder this.

 

“No,” she says firmly. “No, it doesn’t. You gave her the cigarettes, but you didn’t light them. She made an unfortunate mistake that had terrible consequences, and you had nothing to do with it. Does that help?” 

 

Daryl chews his bottom lip.

 

“No,” he says. “No it doesn’t. Not at all, ‘cause I already knew that. Maybe I didn’t as a kid, but I do now. But I thought that’s why I was feelin’ like this, ‘cause I was rememberin’ all the guilt I had and thought maybe I hadn’t dealt with it or somethin’. You know, repression or whatever fancy therapist word you’d use for it.”

“But that’s not it?”

 

“That’s not it,” Daryl says, feeling defeated. He drops his head back down. “And if that’s not it, then what the fuck is it? Why can’t I get these nightmares outta my head? How come almost _every_ _goddamn night_ do I gotta watch everything that matters to me get ripped away. It just keeps happening over and over and over again, and it’s wearing me down. I don’t want to see them die anymore. I can’t. I’m losing my mind. And the fuckin’ Shadow Woman, I don’t know what the fuck she’s about, but it’s only gotten worse with her.”

 

“Shadow Woman?” Dr. Peterson asks. Daryl sighs.

 

“She’s a new part of the dreams,” he tells his knees. “I can’t never see her face, but she just tells me that I can save Carol and my kids and then disappears before she tells me how.”

 

“And you don’t know who she is?”

 

“I think she might be Lydia.”

 

“The ghost in your basement?”

 

“Yeah. I met her son the other day. Long story, but Glenn found out where he lived and we went there to give him a photograph of his momma that we found. He told us what happened. Lotta similarities. And dude wasn’t livin’ so hot. He was in a crumpling house, all alone with his dog, no family or nothin’, and I just...I saw me, you know? Me if I didn’t have Carol. Me if I lost her.” 

 

“Okay, I’m gonna preface this by warning you that it’s gonna come out sounding like something a therapist would say, but I want you to bear with me, alright?”

 

“Whatever,” Daryl says, voice muffled as he presses his face further against his legs.

 

“You want me to stop asking you what you think and tell you what  _ I _ think? I think you got abandoned at a very early age, and then you just kept getting abandoned. Your brother chose the drugs. You father chose his hatred. So now you have a real family, with real love, and you have never had something like that that you’ve been able to keep. You’re afraid you’re gonna lose it.”

 

“So how do I stop being afraid?” Daryl whispers.

 

“By learning to accept that you can’t control everything that happens. Placing blame on yourself for your mother’s death means it was your fault and not just an accident. Your checking behaviors make you feel like you get to control your family’s safety. But the truth is, you can’t control everything, and if you can’t let yourself be okay with that, then you’re never going to enjoy having the things you have, because you’ll be too focused on trying not to lose them.”

 

“I dunno how to do that.”

 

“Well, that’s why you have me,” Dr. Peterson says, and Daryl manages to crack a small smile. “It won’t be overnight, Daryl, but there are ways we can work on this, if you’re willing to put in the work.”

 

Not lifting his head, he nods.

 

“I am.”

 

“Then that’s what we’ll do.”

 

Daryl thinks for a minute. Finally, he peeks up over his knees at Dr. Peterson.

 

“I got one more question.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Why’s this all centered on my momma? If I been abandoned by so many different people, why’d my brain decide to latch onto this?”

 

“Maybe because becoming a parent is making you remember her.”

 

“So it’s bringing up, what, old things I haven’t dealt with? Trauma I stuffed down or somethin’?”

 

“My opinion? I think it’s simpler than that.”

 

“What do you think it means, then?” 

 

Dr. Peterson gives him a sad smile.

 

“I think it means you miss, her Daryl,” she says. “I think it’s as easy as that.”

 

—-

 

That night, before Carol gets home, Daryl stands before the basement door, wringing his hands and grimacing. It’s been five minutes and he hasn’t taken a single step. He shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath, and before he loses his nerve, swings the door open and walks slowly down the stairs.

 

Once he’s at the bottom he switches on the ominous, orange light. He sits down on the last step, and bounces his leg up and down, looking around the room. 

 

“Hey,” he says after a long stretch of silence. “It’s Daryl. We been talkin’ here and there, and I...well I wanted to tell you somethin’. 

 

“I saw your son the other day. He’s growin’ into an old man. He told me your daughter’s got kids. Grandkids, too. And like, I dunno if you’re down here still ‘cause you think that you still need to save ‘em, ‘cause I know you was gone before you ever found out if they got out alive, but I thought I’d let you know that they did. You saved ‘em. Your children are okay, you don’t gotta keep lookin’ for ‘em.”

 

Nothing stirs in the basement, and Daryl has nothing else to say, so he gets to his feet and turns to head back up the stairs, when a faint rolling sound startles him. He swings back around and squints in the dull light. He traces the sound to the floor, and he sees a tiny red and orange marble rolling across the floor. He tenses as it comes closer, and takes a sharp breath when it stops in its tracks right in front of his feet. 

 

Very slowly, Daryl reaches down and takes the marble in his hand. He looks it over. It’s almost the color of flame. He glances around the basement and nods.

 

“You’re welcome,” he mutters, and shows himself back upstairs.

 

—-

 

_ July 13 _

_ Wednesday (early) _

 

It’s the same narrative tonight as always. Tonight it takes places in his kitchen, where he’s leaning against his counter watching smoke seep under the door that leads to the basement. Carol’s calling his name, his babies are crying, and, of course, he can’t open the door.

 

“Show me the key,” Daryl says to the Shadow Woman. He doesn’t look at her but he knows she’s there. 

 

“You already have it,” she says, and Daryl twists his mouth in anger.

 

“No I don’t. You always say that, but I never do.”

 

“You always do,” the Shadow Woman corrects. “Look at the lock.”

 

Daryl huffs a sigh and goes to the door, the smoke clouding around him. He traces it lightly with his finger and frowns.

 

“It’s not a key shape,” he says. “It’s round.”

 

An idea strikes him. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his marble. He rolls it between his forefinger and thumb, before sliding it into the keyhole. The door pops open with a click. 

 

Astonished, Daryl turns to beam at the Shadow Woman, except tonight she’s no longer a shadow. His heart twists in his chest tight as he stares.

 

“Go get them,” she says. Daryl swallows and turns away, opening the door. 

 

Through the black smoke, Daryl reaches out blindly, until his hand finds another’s. He tugs them forward, and Carol, with two babies clutched to her chest, emerges from the darkness. He wraps himself around them and never wants to let go.

 

“You have to get her, too,” Carol tells him softly, pulling away and pushing him back towards the doorway. Confused, Daryl reaches his hand out again, and he finds another hand. He tugs this person, too, and comes face-to-face with the sepia-toned woman from the photograph in his wall, her hair up in an elegant braid.

 

She smiles at him warmly and touches his cheek, before fading away right before his eyes. Daryl slams the door to the basement shut, and knows the fire will stay on the other side. He looks to where the Shadow Woman, no longer a shadow, was standing, but just like Lydia, she’s vanished without a trace.

 

This time when Carol wakes him, he doesn’t say a word. Instead he just gathers her in his arms and hugs her tight. She makes a confused ‘oof’ sound against his shoulder, but lets him hold her for what feels like an age.

 

“You kept dying,” he says in her ear, not pulling away. “Almost every night, you and the babies, you’d burn to death and I could never stop it. But tonight I stopped it. I saved you. You were alive, ‘cause she helped me.” He leans back and searches her tired face, his body lighter than it’s been in months.

 

“Who helped you, baby?” Carol asks, pushing his hair back. 

 

“I thought she was the ghost woman, the one from the basement that we’ve been researching.”

 

“But she wasn’t?” Carol asks, and, eyes stinging, Daryl shakes his head slowly. “Then who was she?” 

 

Tears fall down his face on their own volition, but he doesn’t want to let go of her to brush them away. He blows out a breath and gives a bittersweet smile.

 

“My mom,” he says quietly. “The woman was my mom.”

 

—-

 

_ July 13th _

_ Wednesday (normal human hour) _

 

(12:59p) ~what do you mean you think the ghost is gone?~

 

(1:02p) -i mean i told her abt her kids n i think it made her feel like she cud finally leave-

 

(1:03p) ~what’d you go and do that for?? we can’t prove there’s a ghost if you sent the ghost to mystery afterlife land.~

 

(1:05p) >I, for one, think you did the honorable thing, Daryl. The honorable thing that happens to be incredibly convenient for me.<

 

(1:06p) -she thot her kids were dead was i just sposed to let her think tht?-

 

(1:06p) -plus she reminded me of my mom-

 

(1:08p) ~how so?~

 

(1:09p) -idk similar death plus larry felt idk familiar ig-

 

(1:09p) -i dunno man it kinda felt like closure-

 

(1:10p) -if thts even a thing-

 

(1:11p) >Man, don’t say that. If you bring your dead mom into this then I feel like an ass making you go through with the bet.<

 

(1:12p) ~you should feel bad, but i also don’t play dirty. you technically won, rick, so you can do what you want.~

 

(1:13p) -i actually had an idea abt tht-

 

(1:13p) -idk if ud b interested-

 

(1:14p) ~go on.~

 

(1:14p) >What’s your idea.<

 

(1:15p) - :) -

 

—-

 

_ July 15th _

_ Friday _

 

“Why the fuck did I pick ribs, that was such a bad idea,” Glenn says, lifting his shirt and looking in the full-length mirror in his bedroom.

 

“I tried to warn you,” Daryl says, his pant leg rolled up as he examines his calf. Next to him he gives Picatso chin scratches. “Though it took like fifteen minutes, twenty tops, so you weren’t exactly on your deathbed.”

 

“I can’t even see mine that well,” Rick says, standing behind Glenn, trying to see his shoulder blade in the mirror.

 

“It looks cool, don’t worry,” Glenn assures him.

 

In lieu of butt tattoos, Daryl had a different suggestion, and the three of them perfected it together.

 

Etched into Glenn’s rib, Daryl’s calf, and Rick’s shoulder blade are matching tattoos, each of a minimalist ghost outline, with the letters T.G. underneath them.

 

“This was such a better idea,” Glenn says. “I really didn’t want Rick’s name on my ass.”

 

“Not that I would have lost, but walking around campus shitting myself wouldn’t exactly have been my idea of a good time.”

 

“Way better,” Daryl agrees. 

 

“Now we’re Team Groupchat permanently,” Glenn says. “Team Groupchat, ghostbusters.”

 

“Ghostbusters that never actually saw a ghost,” Rick points out.

 

“Shut the fuck up,” Glenn says, hitting Rick with a pillow. 

 

Daryl laughs. 

 

Much more fulfilling, he thinks, to enjoy what he has, than to dwell on what he could lose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thus ties up the mystery of the basement ghost. writing glenn and rick during that made me think of buzzfeed unsolved. glenn is ryan and rick is shane, obviously. sorry for the lack of caryl in this chapter, but this arch needed some focus to be told properly, or so that was my opinion while writing it. you're allowed to disagree, but i wrote it soooo...¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> anyway. we are reaching a climax here, friends. "does that means it's almost over??" you may ask, and the answer is "lmfao, no." 
> 
> nah, fam, there's still about ten tons left of this story. i was telling some fandom peeps that i'll probably still be writing this long after you've all given up on it. i got a story to tell, goddamnit! and my brain won't rest until it's on paper (digital paper?). so hope you want more, because there will be more. so much more. help.
> 
> that being said, we're gonna have some babies soonish, so get ready for that! i'm sure that'll go completely smoothly and there will be no conflict at all. :)
> 
> until thursday, hoes.
> 
> laterz,  
> -diz


	15. Popsicles

_August 19th_

_Friday_

 

(5:06p) ~how'd the appointment go this afternoon?~

 

(5:13p) -gud? ish?-

 

(5:15p) >Why ish? Is everyone okay?<

 

(5:18p) -ya everyones fine but ig the bbies r sorta small so doc said the goal is 2 try n make it 2 more weeks so she put carol on bed rest n im guessing thts gna not go gr8-

 

(5:21p) ~what if she goes into labor before then?~

 

(5:23p) -doc said tht if the bbies came like rn they wud prob b just fine but mite need 2 spend time in the nicu until they gain weight n she wnts 2 avoid tht-

 

(5:23p) -which sure thts fine i dnt wnt them in the nicu either but also carol is gna go stir crazy-

 

(5:24p) -she says she wont-

 

(5:24p) -p sure shes wrong-

 

(5:27p) >So does she have to be in bed like 24/7?<

 

(5:28p) -not 24/7 but like shes not sposed 2 do housework or go shop or rly do much of nythng xcept lay arnd n go 2 drs appointments-

 

(5:30p) ~she can't work then?~

 

(5:31p) -nah shes gna use up basically all her sick time n thn she gets maternity leave whn the bbies come-

 

(5:31p) -we'll b ok but its annoying-

 

(5:33p) ~wait, so you're trying to get two more weeks in?~

 

(5:34p) -yeah 2 weeks starting 2mrrw-

 

(5:35p) ~so september 3rd?-

 

(5:36p) ~tell her to wait four extra days.~

 

(5:37p) -wut? y?-

 

(5:37p) -wait-

 

(5:37p) -o no-

 

(5:38p) >Hahahaha!<

 

(5:39p) -no-

 

(5:40p) >What if she does have them on the 7th, though? Your kids would forever share a birthday with Glenn.<

 

(5:41p) -not gna happen-

 

(5:42p) ~it totally is, i can feel it.~

 

(5:42p) ~my lil birthday twins.~

 

(5:43p) -i refuse u wud nvr let me 4get tht. they have 2 b born on literally ny other day-

 

(5:44p) ~what a great present that would be, though!~

 

(5:45p) -i'll get u a gift card 2 taco bell or smthn u dnt get 2 have my kids bday-

 

(5:46p) ~lucky for me, it's not up to you. the universe will decide.~

 

(5:47p) -gdi-

 

(5:49p) >This hilarious revelation aside, two weeks is super soon. You guys ready?<

 

(5:51p) -yes n no?-

 

(5:51p) -rly xcited 2 meet them n carols rly rdy 2 not b pregnant nymore-

 

(5:51p) -but also aaaa parenthood-

 

(5:51p) -n birth is still rly scary 2 thnk abt-

 

(5:52p) >Yeah, how's Carol doing with that?<

 

(5:53p) -so far so gud. doc had us go 2 the hospital n c the maternity ward n just walk arnd 2 like get her used 2 it-

 

(5:53p) -my dummy son is tryna complicate things tho the doc says 2day tht hes uh-

 

(5:53p) -fuk wuts the word-

 

(5:53p) -whn the bb is the wrong way? like ass first?-

 

(5:54p) ~breast?~

 

(5:55p) -yeah no-

 

(5:55p) >The level of confidence behind that answer, tho. Never change, Glenn.<

 

(5:56p) ~oh go fuck yourselves.~

 

(5:56p) ~*breech.~

 

(5:57p) -thts it-

 

(5:58p) >So what does that mean for stuff and things?<

 

(5:59p) -hopefully he'll just flip arnd n it wont matter-

 

(5:59p) -he nvr fukin stops movin according 2 carol so he prob will-

 

(6:00p) -if not tho thn it depends-

 

(6:01p) ~will the doctor still let her deliver a breech baby naturally?~

 

(6:01p) ~my sister who had the c-section, my niece was breech, but there was other stuff going on too so i dunno if they would have done it if that was the only problem.~

 

(6:02p) -doc says shes delivered breech bbies b4-

 

(6:02p) -said it mite suk a lot tho if shes not on drugs cuz shes gotta like? check his position? like with her hand? like inside her? or smthn?-

 

(6:03p) >Every new thing you say about pregnancy makes me want to never knock anyone up ever.<

 

(6:04p) ~you and michonne would make such cute babies though! imagine a little rick junior.~

 

(6:05p) >You and Maggie can go first.<

 

(6:06p) ~hmm, how about we just get our baby fixes from the miller-dixon twins and make our own later?~

 

(6:07p) >Sounds like a plan.<

 

(6:08p) ~is carol still eating raw lemons, daryl?~

 

(6:09p) -no but only bc the heartburn finally won out over the craving-

 

(6:09p) -she did tell me 2 buy like 3 diff kinds of popsicles on my way home 2day so tht mite b a thing-

 

(6:10p) ~as long as she doesn't dip them in ranch.~

 

(6:11p) -do /not/ give her ideas-

 

(6:12p) >Popsicles is a good craving choice given that heat wave that's supposed to hit.<

 

(6:13p) -yeah mb she'll just stay @ home eat a few popsicles watch sum tv n b totally fine w/ no drama until the bbies come-

 

(6:14p) ~you think that's likely?~

 

(6:15p) -not at all-

 

(6:15p) -but i can dream-

 

—-

 

_Draft_

 

_Hey lil ones,_

 

_Me again. You still ain’t here yet. Doc says you’re not supposed to come for a little while which makes your mom kinda mad cuz you are giving her a real hard time. You better be real nice to her when you come out cuz making you don’t seem like no picnic. We’re excited to meet you though. We got your room all ready and got you all the things you need. I keep going in there and just thinking about how soon you’ll be in there and it makes me feel some type of way. I ain’t never wanted anything more than I want you which is weird to think about cuz I didn’t know if I would ever have a kid and now I am gonna have two. That was a big surprise when we found that out by the way. Wonder if you’ll still be full of surprises when you’re here. Probably huh? Anyway just wanted to say hi._

 

_Love always,_

_Dad_

 

—-

 

_August 23rd_

_Monday_

_Day 3 of Bed Rest_

_Total Popsicles Consumed: 7_

 

(10:09a) *Idk why you were worried about this. Bed rest is a fucking dream. Do you know how nice it is to be a disgusting hippopotamus monster in private finally?*

 

(10:14a) -ur not a disgusting hippo monster but im glad ur enjoying urself so far-

 

(10:16a) *Yeah, laying around with you all weekend was nice but now I can watch shameful guilty pleasure shows while half naked on the couch eating popsicles.*

 

(10:21a) -i mean idgaf if u do tht while im home either-

 

(10:22a) *I know, but there's a specific brand of freedom that comes with being repulsive and gluttonous by yourself.*

 

(10:37a) -thts fair-

 

(10:37a) -b4 u started staying ovr i lived like a sewer rat whenever dad was gone-

 

(10:39a) *And it was awesome, right?*

 

(10:43a) -i mean-

 

(10:43a) -ya lol-

 

(10:43a) -wut shows r u watchin tht cud b worse thn lifetime?-

 

(10:45a) *Literally anything playing on TLC.*

 

(10:45a) *And today is a Say Yes to the Dress marathon.*

 

(10:51a) -u told me abt tht once-

 

(10:51a) -rich ppl buy wedding dresses for 1000000 dollars or smthn?-

 

(10:52a) *Essentially, yes.*

 

(10:54a) -i gotta go help axel w/ this prius feel free 2 liveblog @ me while im gone-

 

(10:54a) *Aren't Priuses the type of car you said only douchey hippies drive?*

 

(10:55a) -yes n the owner of this car has like 5 bumper stickers abt global warming n he was vaping n he said he plays open mic nites @ the local coffee shop downtown so im rite-

 

(10:56a) *As always, my love. Don't sabotage his car or the duolingo owl will punish you by making you listen to that dude's demo cd for the rest of eternity.*

 

(10:56a) *Little known fact, but the second to last circle of hell is just a little room where you have to sit and listen to live acoustic indie covers of all the songs you ever loved in the mortal world.*

 

(10:57a) -wuts the last circle?-

 

(10:58a) *The same thing except all the lyrics are in French.*

 

(10:59a) -lmao, ofc-

 

(10:59a) -i'll fix it rly gud then-

 

(10:59a) -tlk 2 u during my lunch break <3-

 

(11:11a) *I know you're not looking at your phone, but just in case, wish.*

 

(11:12a) *Sarah likes the dress with the open back and low cut neck but her mom thinks it makes her look slutty.*

 

(11:12a) *It does but who cares, it looks hot. Embrace your inner slut, girl.*

 

(11:16a) *Tiffany's sister said her butt is too flat for the form fitted dress. Fight fight fight!*

 

(11:19a) *I wonder what Jen's wedding dress was like. I bet it cost like, $7,000. I bet she was a bridezilla. Pitched a fit about how all her napkins were folded and what color they had to be.*

 

(11:20a) *I really don't like her.*

 

(11:20a) *Anyway.*

 

(11:29a) *Sarah went with the slutty dress and Tiffany got a poofy dress to hide her flat butt. Jsyk.*

 

(11:30a) *Next episode!*

 

(11:35a) *I cannot imagine spending this much money on a dress, like my mind cannot mentally process it.*

 

(11:35a) *And all the wedding effort. It's like people spend more energy having a good wedding than they do having a good marriage.*

 

(11:36a) *Jesus christ, I just googled the average cost of a wedding and it's over $30,000.*

 

(11:36a) *Why???*

 

(11:36a) *Do they not understand how many popsicles you can buy with $30,000??*

 

(11:37a) *Btw, plz don't tell Dr. Al-Hadid that I've been eating popsicles for every meal. It's so dumb, I'm starving 24/7 but my organs are all smooshed so I can only eat tiny bits at a time.*

 

(11:37a) *Popsicles are great bc they're kinda like food but they don't take up much stomach space, and also they cool me down bc it's fucking hot in here.*

 

(11:37a) *That's how I'm justifying it.*

 

(11:48a) *Kelsey met her husband-to-be at a rodeo and so their wedding is rodeo themed and it's an atrocity.*

 

(11:48a) *She has fucking diamond studded cowboy boots, Daryl, where did she even find those???*

 

(11:56a) *I wonder how many of these marriages actually last. Or are healthy. Our parents both never got divorced but they probably should have.*

 

(11:56a) *How did your parents meet?*

 

(12:04p) -lmfao u txtd me like 21 times in an hr-

 

(12:05p) *Your fault, you said I could liveblog.*

 

(12:06p) -thts tru-

 

(12:08p) *So how did your parents meet?*

 

(12:11p) -@ the bar obvi-

 

(12:11p) -mom was knocked up 4 months in n the rest is history-

 

(12:12a) *How romantic.*

 

(12:14p) -o yeah hallmark worthy-

 

(12:14p) -urs?-

 

(12:16p) *It's cute actually. Mom was a waitress and my dad used to come in every Sunday just because he knew she'd be working, and he'd never say more than a handful of words to her, until one day she left her number for him on his receipt and he asked her on a real date.*

 

(12:17p) -huh so it was actually hallmark worthy-

 

(12:20p) *If you ignore all the later neglect and infidelity, yes.*

 

(12:20p) *Kinda a Hallmark movie that turned into a Lifetime movie halfway through.*

 

(12:23p) -nah not enuf murder in it 2 b a lifetime movie-

 

(12:25p) *Unless! Dad poisoned her so he could run away with his mistress! Plot twist!*

 

(12:26p) -yeah c thts much more lifetime-

 

(12:27p) *Lmfao. We are deeply broken people.*

 

(12:30p) -yup n theyre letting us b parents 4 sum reason-

 

(12:32p) *I mean, if our parents were allowed to be parents then I doubt the universe's standards are very high.*

 

(12:34p) -fair-

 

(12:34p) -u still enjoying bed rest?-

 

(12:37p) *Yes, I haven't worn a bra in three days, life is magical.*

 

(12:37p) *I'm gonna turn like three fans on me and try to take a nap.*

 

(12:38p) -ok-

 

(12:38p) -hope its a gud nap-

 

(12:40p) *We'll see. Message you when I wake up.*

 

(12:41p) -aight bb slp well-

 

(12:41p) -ilu-

 

(12:42p) *You too.*

 

(2:06p) *That nap was somewhat mediocre.*

 

(2:09p) -y?-

 

(2:11p) *Bladder is too small and belly is too big. Every time I finally found a way to get comfortable I had to pee. I think I only slept like a total of fifteen minutes.*

 

(2:17p) -not gr8-

 

(2:19p) *I'm also super sweaty bc it is SO HOT.*

 

(2:19p) *Anyone who says they feel beautiful while pregnant is lying. Glenn's sister can get fucked.*

 

(2:21p) -u dnt sound like ur 2 happy nymore-

 

(2:23p) *I'm fine, just uncomfortable.*

 

(2:23p) *Unless science finds a way to make men pregnant I am never having children again, I hope two is enough for you.*

 

(2:26p) -ofc-

 

(2:27p) *Would you seriously never want more kids or are you just saying that bc you know I'm in third trimester hell?*

 

(2:32p) -bb i nvr expected 2 have any sort of family so if its only u the dog n the twins thts fine-

 

(2:35p) *Lol I like how you list Henry before the twins.*

 

(2:37p) -w/e he was here 1st-

 

(2:38p) *Very true.*

 

(2:38p) *How do you think he's gonna handle being an older brother? Think he'll be jealous?*

 

(2:42p) -well he is alrdy willing 2 fite anything tht looks @ u wrong so my guess is he'll b protective-

 

(2:46p) *I hope so. I don't want him to think we forgot about him cuz there are new babies.*

 

(3:00p) -he'll help us raise them-

 

(3:02p) *Good, our kids will drink from the toilet bowl.*

 

(3:13p) -did i tell u abt the bet?-

 

(3:15p) *What bet?*

 

(3:19p) -axel oscar n dale made a bet on whn the twins r gna b born. winner gets $20 from each loser-

 

(3:23p) *What are the dates?*

 

(3:27p) -axel says sep 9th oscar thinks itll b next week sometime n dale thinks ull make it 2 40 weeks-

 

(3:30p) *No offense to Dale, and with the understanding that the longer I go the better off the twins will be, but if I'm still pregnant at 40 weeks I might actually perform a c-section on myself to get these children out of me.*

 

(3:39p) -um plz dnt-

 

(3:43p) *I will do everything in my power to make it to 37 weeks, but after that I will be asking the duolingo owl every day to free me.*

 

(3:51p) -as long as u dnt give birth on glenns bday-

 

(3:53p) *What happens if I go into labor then?*

 

(3:59p) -we gotta duct tape u up until the 8th-

 

(4:02p) *By duct tape me up do you mean tape my vagina shut? Because I don't think that'll work.*

 

(4:04p) -¯\\_(ツ)_/¯-

 

(4:04p) -he wud nvr ever let me 4get tht the twins share his bday so we gotta do wut we gotta do-

 

(4:06p) *Yeah, remind me to tell the doctor that no duct tape is allowed in my hospital room.*

 

(4:07p) -lol-

 

(4:07p) -gotta go work on a water pump thn im off work after-

 

(4:07p) -just tell me now wut type of popsicles ur gonna make me go get so i can take care of it b4 i get home-

 

(4:09p) *God you're perfect.*

 

(4:09p) *Get the kind with fruit in it bc it makes me feel less guilty bc at least there's vitamin c. And then just get an industrial sized pack of those freezie pop things. The ones in the tubes that are basically frozen koolaid. You know what I'm talking about?*

 

(4:10p) -yeah i do-

 

(4:10p) -b home soon w/ popsicles-

 

(4:11p) *Duolingo owl bless you, my love.*

 

(4:11p) *<3*

 

—-

 

_Draft_

 

_Hi lil bugs,_

 

_You probably already know this but you have weird parents. And if anyone ever gives you a hard time about having weird parents well tell them to f— off. But don’t tell your mom I told you to use that word. We will probably embarrass you a lot and we will never be very good at going to PTA meetings or whatever but we will never miss any of your games or concerts or whatever it is kids do in school I don’t even know but I promise we’ll be there. And if you ever think that you wish we weren’t so weird just remember that weird parents that love you is a whole lot better than normal parents who don’t._

 

_Besides you’ll probably be pretty weird too if we’re the ones raising you. Sorry._

 

_Love you both no matter what,_

_Dad_

 

—-

 

_August 26th_

_Thursday_

_Day 6 of Bed Rest_

_Total Popsicles Consumed: 19_

 

(9:53a) *Do you think your dick is bigger than Glenn and/or Rick's?*

 

(9:58a) -anyway new topic-

 

(10:01a) *Michonne was messaging me about how in her drawing class today she had to sketch a naked guy who came to model and she said he had the biggest schlong she'd ever seen.*

 

(10:04a) - :/ -

 

(10:05a) *We started talking about penis averages and how so many dudes exaggerate their dick size that we can't be sure how many are truly carrying around footlongs in their boxers.*

 

(10:08a) - /: -

 

(10:10a) *And like, of course I didn't say this bc you're a private person, but secretly I was like "well Daryl certainly doesn't have to compensate for anything if you know what I mean," and it made me wonder how big Glenn and Rick are.*

 

(10:17a) -oscar just asked me y im so red rn so thnx-

 

(10:20a) *Lbr, you're almost definitely packing more than them.*

 

(10:22a) -lets nvr find out-

 

(10:23a) *I'm just saying that you have a lovely penis, darling.*

 

(10:23a) *And it's very good at its half of the procreation process.*

 

(10:26a) -hows say yes to the dress? or literally nything else?-

 

(10:27a) * 8=====D~ *

 

(10:29a) -y-

 

(10:30a) *Bc I'm bored. Bed rest is officially boring. Penises were the best thing I could come up with for entertainment.*

 

(10:30a) *Maggie's gonna video chat with me later but she has class until 3.*

 

(10:31a) *Also I'm hot, why is everything so hot?*

 

(10:31a) *I love you, but getting someone pregnant so the timing works out that they're in the third trimester during peak summer season should be grounds for capital punishment.

 

(10:31a) *I had popsicles for breakfast and I'm laying here with a bag of frozen peas under my boobs.*

 

(10:37a) -im sry ur so uncomfortable sweetheart-

 

(10:37a) -can i help?-

 

(10:39a) *Take me to Antarctica and let me do my bed rest in an igloo.*

 

(10:39a) *Or speed up time to when the twins are already born.*

 

(10:39a) *You pick.*

 

(10:43a) -wut if i cant do either?-

 

(10:44a) *Also grounds for capital punishment. Do you have a preferred method of execution?*

 

(10:49a) -lethal injection ig?-

 

(10:51a) *Duly noted.*

 

(10:54a) -4 real tho is there nything i can do?-

 

(10:55a) *Not really. Just let me bitch and validate my suffering?*

 

(11:01a) -can do-

 

(11:03a) *Gonna attempt a nap.*

 

(11:03a) *My expectations are low but my exhaustion says I have to try.*

 

(11:03a) *How tf am I so exhausted, btw? I've done literally nothing for six days.*

 

(11:05a) -ur growing 2 human beings-

 

(11:05a) -n also keep peeing in the middle of the nite-

 

(11:06a) *Oh yeah.*

 

(11:06a) *Well, wish me luck I guess.*

 

(11:07a) -gud luck-

 

(1:23p) *I sort of slept but I was having Braxton Hicks contractions and the babies think it is party time.*

 

(1:23p) *It is not party time, it is supposed to be nap time.*

 

(1:29p) -ur sure theyre fake contractions?-

 

(1:31p) *Yes, mon chéri, they don't hurt and they're not consistent at all. If that changes I'll let you know, but for now it's just another annoying thing my body is doing.*

 

(1:34p) -k but if smthn feels off lmk-

 

(1:35p) *If I start giving birth on the couch I'll hit you up.*

 

(1:39p) -ha ha-

 

(1:42p) *I'm still bored.*

 

(1:42p) *I'm gonna go pick fights on pregnancy facebook groups.*

 

(1:45p) -lmao k-

 

(2:01p) *Already in a heated debate about circumcision.*

 

(2:05p) -back 2 penises-

 

(2:07p) *We have indeed come full circle.*

 

(2:13p) *I made a comment on a post saying that I thought we shouldn't shame people who don't or can't breastfeed and received the following comment:*

 

(2:14p) *"U a skanky ass hoe i bet U don't even no who Ur babydaddy is and U can go ahead and poison your kids with fake milk cuz U don't wanna ruin Ur boobs even tho i bet U real ugly i cant beleeve ppl like U get to have kids this is why are goverment is so bad bc dumb ppl keep having dumb kids!!"*

 

(2:15p) *I personally feel like we've got a really good dialogue going.*

 

(2:19p) -i mite txt bad but at least im not tht person-

 

(2:20p) *Very true.*

 

(2:24p) *Actual thing I just read with my two eyes: "Do you think if I ask him my doctor will induce me early? I'm due in a couple months and I don't want my baby to be a Scorpio."*

 

(2:30p) -wtf??-

 

(2:32p) *There are people commenting about sun and moon signs and how those will influence the baby's personality so she shouldn't worry too much about the Scorpio thing.*

 

(2:37p) -thnx 4 being a sane person-

 

(2:40p) *You mean you don't care about our children's astrological well-being???*

 

(2:49p) -no-

 

(2:51p) *Lmao, well that's pretty to the point.*

 

(2:51p) *Daryl, people on the internet are absolutely bonkers.*

 

(2:56p) -is this new info?-

 

(2:58p) *No, but sometimes I get reminded and it's just a lot.*

 

(3:03p) *Gonna chat with Maggie for a bit, love you.*

 

(3:07p) -ilu2-

 

(4:16p) *She wouldn't tell me Glenn's dick size.*

 

(4:21p) -jfc-

 

(4:21p) -gud-

 

(4:25p) *I'm still betting on you, though.*

 

(4:26p) *Looking forward to the day we can have sex again. Sorry it's prohibited during bed rest and also it's becoming more trouble than it's worth trying to navigate me having Jupiter glued to my torso.*

 

(4:26p) *What if we can't have sex again until after I'm healed up from giving birth? That might be a long time from now. Will that be ok?*

 

(4:32p) -y wudnt it b?-

 

(4:33p) *Idk, I don't want you to be like, sexually frustrated bc of me. I can still do stuff for you if you want, just lmk.*

 

(4:37p) -do u think id rly b upset tht u need time after birth 2 feel up 4 sex again?-

 

(4:38p) *Idk, women on the internet were talking about how they've had trouble in their relationships bc their sex lives have changed.*

 

(4:42p) -k but i thot we decided ppl on the internet r bonkers-

 

(4:42p) -plus i feel like we'll b 2 busy taking care of newborns 2 worry abt sex 4 a while-

 

(4:42p) -n im fine w/ however much time u need-

 

(4:43p) *What if it's a long time, tho?*

 

(4:47p) -then its a long time-

 

(4:47p) -i dnt luv u just bc of sex carol dw abt tht ok?-

 

(4:50p) *If you say so.*

 

(4:55p) -i do-

 

(4:55p) -im off work in a min how u doin on popsicles?-

 

(4:57p) *Good on freezie pops. Out of fruit ones. Also I kinda want bomb pops…*

 

(5:00p) -i'll hit the store then-

 

(5:01p) *Our entire food budget this month is gonna go towards popsicles.*

 

(5:02p) -@ least ur not craving surf n turf 4 every meal we can handle popsicles-

 

(5:03p) *It's the little things in life.*

 

(5:04p) -exactly-

 

(5:04p) -b home soon-

 

—-

 

Draft

 

_Hey double trouble,_

 

_I am writing these partly so you can get to know me if I’m gone so I’m gonna list some things about me that maybe you don’t already know._

 

 

  * __Dogs have always been my favorite animals but Henry is the first dog I ever had as a pet.__


  * _I like hunting but I will only ever kill animals that I am gonna eat. You shouldn’t kill animals just for fun I have never liked that._


  * _I am afraid of ghosts._


  * _I don’t actually like beets but your mom likes them a lot so I always eat them when she puts them in stuff cuz I don’t want her to feel bad._


  * _I can ride a motorcycle but I don’t really know how to ride a bicycle that well._


  * _The only girl I ever had a crush on other than your mom was my neighbor’s kid and when I think about it I think it was just cuz she had a dog and I wanted to hang out with it._


  * _I once was mad at my brother so I put a dead possum in his bed and I had to hide from him for three days cuz he was so mad._


  * _My favorite book as a kid was The Lorax cuz I liked how it ended with them planting trees again._


  * _I always wanted to go up a mountain but I’m afraid it’ll be too cold._



 

 

_That’s all I can think of right now. I’ll tell you more if I think of anything._

 

_Love you lots,_

_Dad_

 

—-

 

_August 30th_

_Tuesday_

_Day 11 of Bed Rest_

_Total Popsicles Consumed: 54_

 

(9:29a) *If I have to sit on this couch one more second I may actually lose my goddamn mind.*

 

(9:42a) -just 4 more days bb-

 

(9:44a) *That's 96 hours.*

 

(9:44a) *345,600 seconds.*

 

(9:44a) *And that's not even counting today.*

 

(9:45a) *Also I put the air conditioner at 63 degrees idegaf, we can take the electricity bill out of their college fund.*

 

(9:56a) -jfc how r u not freezing?-

 

(9:57a) *Bc I have the body temperature of Satan bc I weigh 42 pounds more than I did 8 months ago and my body is overworking itself putting finishing touches on these demons.*

 

(9:57a) *(Don't tell them I called them demons, I love them anyway.)*

 

(9:48a) *You know when your computer has some weird background app running and it starts making weird noises and gets really hot?*

 

(9:48a) *That's me. I'm a fat overheated computer.*

 

(10:00a) -thts a rly weird comparison-

 

(10:02a) *¯\\_(ツ)_/¯*

 

(10:02a) *I don't know why I bother leaving the bathroom when I'm just gonna have to pee again in three minutes.*

 

(10:02a) *Can the babies be here yet?*

 

(10:13a) -soon-

 

(10:13a) -like rly rly soon-

 

(10:13a) -lol thts terrifying-

 

(10:16a) *We really should pick names or we're gonna end up calling them Not-Jesse and Not-Josie forever.*

 

(10:21a) -ik but all the other names suk-

 

(10:21a) -wut if instead of not-jesse n not-josie we just called them...jesse n josie?*

 

(10:24a) *Ugggh but it's too cute. And we'll mix them up constantly.*

 

(10:25a) -we dnt gotta-

 

(10:25a) -but i aint got no other ideas-

 

(10:26a) *I will consider it but I am not agreeing to it yet.*

 

(10:32a) -mk-

 

(10:35a) *Hey, off topic but I need you to do me a favor.*

 

(10:47a) -ok wut favor?-

 

(10:48a) *Clean everything.*

 

(10:48a) *I desperately want to scrub down this house but I'm not allowed to so you have to do it.*

 

(10:48a) *But also I have to supervise you in case you do it wrong.*

 

(11:01a) -is this tht nesting thing the books tlked abt?-

 

(11:03a) *No, it's just that every surface of our house is dirty and we can't bring children into this.*

 

(11:11a) *Wish.*

 

(11:15a) -missed it soz-

 

(11:15a) -also kinda sounds like ur nesting-

 

(11:17a) *Wrong. I just don't want our kids to breathe in asbestos.*

 

(11:21a) -k our house doesnt have asbestos-

 

(11:21a) -or any mold or else i wud have seen it whn i did renovations-

 

(11:21a) -bbies rnt gna breathe in nythng bad-

 

(11:23a) *Humor me or I will have to do it myself.*

 

(11:31a) -ur ridiculous-

 

(11:31a) -k fine i gotta go 2 therapy make me a list while im gone-

 

(11:32a) *Gladly. Have good brain fixing.*

 

(11:33a) -lol thnx-

 

(1:21p) -back @ work-

 

(1:24p) *How was the brain doctor?*

 

(1:26p) -fine we tlked abt parenthood n being afraid of ending up like my dad-

 

(1:27p) *You're not gonna be like your dad.*

 

(1:35p) -thts wut she said 2-

 

(1:37p) *I doubt your dad ever practiced how to swaddle on a baby doll so he'd be prepared for the real thing.*

 

(1:44p) -lmfao yeah deffo not-

 

(1:44p) -still worry sometimes tho-

 

(1:44p) -mb i'll have a short temper-

 

(1:46p) *I can remember exactly three times when you've snapped at me. Once when I was drunkenly trying to get in your pants to avoid my problems, and the other two were bc I was straight up pretending not to be pregnant, so I deserved it every time.*

 

(1:47p) *And even then you didn't yell. You've never yelled at me. Not even when I lied about therapy.*

 

(1:47p) *You're not your dad, Daryl. You're much too sweet.*

 

(2:02p) -hope ur rite-

 

(2:03p) *Ofc I am, I'm never wrong.*

 

(2:03p) *And before you say it, denial is not the same thing as being wrong.*

 

(2:22p) -wut abt things u got wrong in french class?-

 

(2:24p) *Ok that was a low blow. I passed!*

 

(2:29p) -uh huh-

 

(2:29p) -w/ a 72%-

 

(2:32p) *I didn't say I passed with an A.*

 

(2:43p) -just sayin-

 

(2:44p) *Well stop sayin. Listen to my list I wrote instead. Here's what needs cleaned:*

 

(2:44p) *Everything.*

 

(2:51p) -smdh can u b more specific-

 

(2:53p) *K, for the kitchen all the dishes need to be rewashed and the counters and floor sanitized. Henry's cage needs hosed down. So does Henry while we're at it.*

 

(2:53p) *Living room needs dusted and vacuumed, and we need to wash the couch cushions. The walls are kinda grimy so those need scrubbed.*

 

(2:54p) *Bathroom you might as well just drench in bleach. Also there's so much soap scum in the shower that needs taken care of.*

 

(2:55p) *Yard needs fixed up.*

 

(2:55p) *Make sure everything is organized in the nursery.*

 

(2:56p) *That's what I got so far.*

 

(3:09p) -so far-

 

(3:09p) -u realize the twins wont b able to crawl or walk or do nything but eat n slp for a while rite?-

 

(3:11p) *What's your point?*

 

(3:17p) -u sure this isnt nesting?-

 

(3:17p) -seems a lot like nesting-

 

(3:20p) *Watch it or I'll make you clean the ceilings too.*

 

(3:40p) -noted-

 

(3:40p) -i will wash the whole house 4 u even tho its pointless-

 

(3:40p) -bc i luv u-

 

(3:43p) *I'll help once I'm able to move again on Sunday.*

 

(3:56p) -u mean redo everything i clean-

 

(4:02p) *No.*

 

(4:02p) *Unless you do it wrong, then yes.*

 

(4:13p) -lmao-

 

(4:16p) -gonna b off early do u need popsicles?-

 

(4:19p) *Always.*

 

(4:23p) -k send me wut kind n i'll b home soon-

 

—-

 

_Draft_

 

_Hey lil boy and lil girl,_

 

_I am worrying a lot today cuz I really want to be a good dad to you but I’m not sure if I know how. I did not have a good dad and so I have never known what a good dad is supposed to be like. I promise that I will never hit you though. And I will try not to ever yell even if you do something bad. I will never stop loving you if you mess up. I will never make you be all alone. I will do my best to never ever hurt you in any way._

 

_That’s the best I got. I hope it’s enough._

 

_Love you in every way I can,_

_Dad_

 

—-

 

_September 2nd_

_Friday_

_Day 13 of Bed Rest_

_Total Popsicles Consumed: Too Goddamn Many_

 

(10:08a) - _you sent a photo_ -

 

(10:12a) *What am I looking at?*

 

(10:13a) -dale wants 2 kno if we want this van-

 

(10:13a) -he fixed it up n he told me he'd sell it 2 me for $500 which is crazy cuz he cud easily get a couple grand 4 it-

 

(10:14a) -he said he'd b willing 2 do payments but we got enuf in savings tho it'll wipe us nearly clean but i think itd b a gud idea 4 us 2 have 2 cars-

 

(10:14a) -cant take bbies on a motorcycle-

 

(10:16a) *Yeah probably not a great idea, they wouldn't fit the helmets.*

 

(10:16a) *Can we afford to plate it? And insurance?*

 

(10:19a) -plating shud b p cheap tbh its an old van n i think its cheaper if we combine all our vehicles 2 one plan-

 

(10:19a) -we can swing it-

 

(10:23a) *Then I say go for it. And thank Dale profusely for me. He treats us better than we deserve.*

 

(10:23a) *Maybe we'll name the twins Dale.*

 

(10:25a) -lmfao both of em?-

 

(10:26a) *Yes.*

 

(10:27a) -gud idea-

 

(10:31a) *Hey, do you think we should open a joint account?*

 

(10:43a) -do u wna?-

 

(10:45a) *I mean it would make sense, right? And we can still keep our separate accounts, too.*

 

(10:45a) *And you make more than me so you can be the overseer of the joint account since it'll be more your money than mine.*

 

(10:59a) -nah my $ is our $ i dnt gotta oversee nthn-

 

(10:59a) -its a gud idea-

 

(11:02a) *Yeah?*

 

(11:09a) -yeah-

 

(11:09a) -just feels like idk a grown up thing to do lol-

 

(11:11a) *Wish.*

 

(11:11a) -did-

 

(11:12a) *Having kids is a grown up thing to do.*

 

(11:17a) -tru-

 

(11:20a) *We don't have to get married rn or anything, it’s just money.*

 

(11:30a) -yeah-

 

(11:31a) *Not that we have to get married at all.*

 

(11:31a) *Not that we can't ever get married tho.*

 

(11:31a) *Or you know.*

 

(11:31a) *Whatever.*

 

(11:32a) *Anyway.*

 

(11:32a) *My foot's in my mouth let's move on.*

 

(11:43a) -yeah no i get it-

 

(11:43a) -lets look into getting a joint account-

 

(11:44a) *Sounds good.*

 

(11:45a) -yeah-

 

(11:46a) *Yeah.*

 

(11:49a) *Hey want a hasty and kinda gross but also kinda important subject change?*

 

(12:01p) -go 4 it-

 

(12:02p) *I think I lost my mucus plug???*

 

(12:09p) -o shit r u sure?-

 

(12:12p) *Either that or I birthed a small gross alien creature.*

 

(12:14p) -tht means u mite go into labor soon rite?-

 

(12:16p) *I am googling.*

 

(12:17p) *The internet says anywhere between a few hours to a few weeks, so that narrows it down. -.- *

 

(12:17p) *Could be a sign tho.*

 

(12:18p) *Ask Glenn if he knows anything about his sisters’ mucus plugs.*

 

(12:29p) -k-

 

—-

 

(12:29p) -hey glenn carol wnts 2 kno how long after ur sisters lost their mucus plugs did they go into labor-

 

(12:31p) >What in the fuck is a mucus plug???<

 

(12:33p) ~it’s a thing that plugs up your cervix so you don’t get bacteria in your uterus, which i only know because my sisters overshare A LOT.~

 

(12:34p) -wut glenn said-

 

(12:35p) >I didn’t actually want to know. Tell Carol she’s not allowed to offer conversation topics in the groupchat anymore.<

 

(12:38p) ~i texted grace, daryl, and she said she went into labor the next day, but that my sister that got the c-section never lost hers, and my oldest sister didn’t go into labor for like two weeks.~

 

(12:42p) -k thnx-

 

(12:42p) -sry rick-

 

(12:43p) >I was typing up a paper and accidentally typed “mucus plug” instead of what I meant to write. I hate you both.<

 

(12:44p) ~just turn it in like that.~

 

(12:45p) -wut glenn said-

 

(12:46p) >Get fucked.<

 

—-

 

(12:46p) -rick told me 2 tell u tht ur not allowed 2 offer conversation topics in the grpcht anymore-

 

(12:47p) *Tell Rick to suck it up.*

 

(12:47p) *Glenn say anything?*

 

(12:59p) -basically tht it can b tomorrow or weeks from now-

 

(1:01p) *Sooo, what the internet said.*

 

(1:02p) -p much-

 

(1:03p) *I’m gonna be pregnant forever.*

 

(1:12p) -no u rnt u rnt even term yet-

 

(1:12p) -itll b soon-

 

(1:14p) *No it won’t, I’m gonna go to like 53 weeks before they’re like “huh, maybe we should do something about this.”*

 

(1:15p) -doubt it-

 

(1:15p) -almost done w/ bed rest at least-

 

(1:16p) *You mean house arrest.*

 

(1:17p) -i didnt but ok-

 

(1:17p) -gotta fix an alternator b back in a bit hang in there sweetheart-

 

(1:18p) *Yeah yeah.*

 

(2:39p) -how u doin?-

 

(2:47p) *I did something that made me very sad.*

 

(2:48p) -?-

 

(2:50p) *I read some of those letters my mom wrote me.*

 

(2:51p) -o yikes r u ok?-

 

(2:54p) *Maybe?*

 

(2:54p) *There was one that she wrote that was like, tips for if I ever have kids of my own, which ofc made me bawl for ten years.*

 

(2:59p) -wut were the tips?-

 

(3:02p) *Well she wrote it when I was like 9 days old and she was exhausted so they were mostly along the lines of “if you have any time at all to yourself go to sleep” and “remind yourself often that you love your baby so that you don’t strangle her.”*

 

(3:09p) -lmao ur mom n u have the same sense of humor-

 

(3:11p) *Oh yeah, I definitely picked up a lot of my sarcasm from her.*

 

(3:12p) *I miss her, Daryl.*

 

(3:15p) -ik bb-

 

(3:15p) -do u think the letters help?-

 

(3:16p) *I mean, they make me sad, but without them I’d be left with nothing, so I definitely prefer having them.*

 

(3:26p) -ive been writing letters-

 

(3:27p) *What do you mean?*

 

(3:29p) -2 the twins-

 

(3:29p) -in case nythng ever happens 2 me-

 

(3:30p) *Omg?? Seriously?*

 

(3:31p) -mhm-

 

(3:34p) *That’s so fucking sweet I’m genuinely crying.*

 

(3:34p) *I don’t know how you could ever be like your dad. You’re already a great parent and they aren’t even here.*

 

(3:39p) -idk-

 

(3:39p) -i just wnt them 2 kno wut they meant 2 me if im gone-

 

(3:40p) *I should do that too. Especially if I end up being sick.*

 

(3:40p) *Do you ever think about that?*

 

(3:43p) -u bein sick?-

 

(3:44p) *Yeah.*

 

(3:47p) -try not 2-

 

(3:47p) -dnt c much point theres nthn we can do if u r-

 

(3:48p) *I know but like, practically, are you worried about taking care of the twins on your own?*

 

(3:50p) -no-

 

(3:50p) -as long as im here i’ll take care of them-

 

(3:50p) -n u-

 

(3:54p) *I love you. :( *

 

(3:55p) -ilu2-

 

(3:55p) -wnt me 2 come home? i cud prob sneak away-

 

(3:57p) *Yes please.*

 

(3:59p) -popsicles?-

 

(4:01p) *I’ve had too many popsicles.*

 

(4:02p) -so no?-

 

(4:03p) *Hey now, I didn’t say that.*

 

(4:03p) *Get your sad girl some more popsicles.*

 

(4:04p) -lol-

 

(4:04p) -yes ma’am-

 

—-

 

_Draft_

 

_Hey sweethearts,_

 

_I don’t know when you’ll read these letters or if you’ll ever read them but it’ll be a long time from now I’m sure. I don’t know where your mom and me will be then. I hope we’ll be together still. I didn’t grow up thinking that moms and dads were supposed to love each other but your mom taught me different. No matter what happens though I want you to know that I will always love and take care of your mom so never feel like it is up to you to make sure she’s ok. That’s my job not yours. And if mom ever is gone or is sick like her mom was I will make sure that you are still safe and taken care of. We will be fine if we’re together. I can’t promise that nothing will ever make you sad but I can promise that as long as I’m alive I’ll be there to cheer you up again and make things ok. That’s what family does. A good one anyway._

 

_Love you forever,_

_Dad_

 

—-

 

_September 5th_

_Monday_

 

Daryl’s sitting on the floor with his back against the couch where Carol’s draped across it. They’re watching something forgettable on TV, and for the fourth time in an hour Daryl hears Carol suck in a sharp breath. This time he looks over his shoulder and regards her.

 

“You okay?” he asks.

 

“I’m fine, why?” she asks, and her voice is just barely strained. He narrows his eyes.

 

“You not tellin’ me somethin’?” he asks.

 

“What wouldn’t I be telling you?” she asks. She then lets out a long breath through pursed lips, and Daryl raises an eyebrow.

 

“Are you having contractions?” he asks.

 

“Okay, yes, but only Braxton Hicks,” she insists, voice normal now.

 

“‘Kay, but that seemed stronger than a Braxton Hicks and you been soundin’ like you been havin’ a few of ‘em.”

 

“They aren’t consistent at all, I don’t think it’s anything,” she says, waving a dismissive hand. Daryl gives her a bemused frown.

 

“Haven’t you been sayin’ pretty much every day how ready you are to have the babies? Why’re you writing it off so easy?”

 

“I’m not,” Carol says with a shrug. “I just don’t think it’s anything.”

 

“Uh huh,” Daryl says suspiciously. “Tell me somethin’ else and be honest.”

 

“Okay, tell you what?”

 

“You afraid of goin’ to the hospital? That why you’re sayin’ it’s nothin’?”

 

Carol averts her eyes.

 

“I mean, I’m not exactly excited to go through a whole lot of pain in my least favorite place.”

 

“I get that,” Daryl says gently. “You know we got plans in place to make it easier on you, though, right? And you ain’t gonna be alone.”

 

“I know,” Carol says, looking back up at him and smiling a little. “But I really don’t think this is anything.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Mm,” Daryl hums. His intuition is pinging, but she knows her body better.

 

“Listen, let’s just wait and see. If it’s labor then we aren’t going to be able to ignore it, right?”

 

“Alright,” Daryl agrees. “Let’s just wait and see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was fun, it's been a while since i had an almost entirely text centered chapter, and it was nice to write more carol again. it's been pretty heavily team groupchat and daryl lately. she definitely has some important stuff coming up! (duh) 
> 
> anyway
> 
> i'm allowed to make fun of prius owners bc i own the most obnoxious prius ever. it's bright orange, guys, and covered in space/alien bumper stickers. but hey, at least i don't vape.
> 
> talk about daryl's dick size was a specific request. you know who you are. you're welcome.
> 
> i had a Bad couple days, and writing this genuinely made me feel a lot better. it's my emotional support fanfic. i'm glad you guys seem to like it, because otherwise i'd have to just keep writing into the void, because it's where i go for self-care. 
> 
> k, done rambling, i'm gonna go make some banana waffles and watch netflix.
> 
> see you sunday for a chapter that may or may not be pretty important.
> 
> toodles,  
> -diz


	16. Smiley Face Sticker

_ September 5th _

_ Monday _

 

(11:13p) -so heres a motorcycle-

 

(11:13p) -wut do u do if ur like p sure ur gf is in labor but shes refusing 2 admit it?-

 

(11:16p) ~!!!!~

 

(11:16p) ~the new year's eve whoopsies are coming???~

 

(11:17p) -i think so but like i said carol is saying they rnt-

 

(11:19p) >Why are you convinced that they are?<

 

(11:20p) -shes been having contractions 4 the past 3 hrs n i been keeping track 2 myself n theyre far apart but like the same amount of far apart-

 

(11:20p) -like 15 min exactly-

 

(11:22p) ~she has no idea you're timing these does she?~

 

(11:23p) -lol ofc not-

 

(11:23p) -but wut do i do??-

 

(11:24p) ~wait.~

 

(11:25p) -thts it?-

 

(11:27p) ~yeah, i mean, if she's really in labor it's not just gonna go away. this isn't something she can just ignore, trust me. i've seen women in labor. it's kind of hard to focus on much else.~

 

(11:28p) >Why is she trying to ignore it anyway? I thought you said she's been going insane wanting to be done with her pregnancy.<

 

(11:29p) -she has but i think wanting it n it actually happening r diff n she got scared-

 

(11:29p) -not tht i blame her i just dnt wna end up delivering our kids n our living rm or smthn-

 

(11:30p) ~you won't. you'll know before it gets to that point.~

 

(11:31p) >Speaking of being scared, you seem remarkably calm.<

 

(11:31p) ~yeah for real, what gives? why aren't you losing your shit?~

 

(11:32p) -idk i think my anxiety has an override tht if carols freaking out i have 2 b calm-

 

(11:32p) -but also ive checked the hospital bag 5 times 2 make sure we have everything n im convinced the carseats r in wrong even tho i had carols aunt help me put them in-

 

(11:33p) -also wut if things go wrong?-

 

(11:33p) -or wut if they r still 2 small n have 2 stay in the nicu n we gotta go home w/out them?-

 

(11:33p) -n last time we checked boy was still the wrong way wut if they have 2 cut her open she'd b so scared-

 

(11:34p) >Okay nevermind, there he goes.<

 

(11:35p) ~think of the positives here, buddy, if she's really in labor then you are finally gonna meet your kids super super soon.~

 

(11:35p) ~and not to like, wish a super long labor on carol, but if she can hold out for just over 24 hours i'll get my birthday twins.~

 

(11:36p) -o gdi-

 

(11:36p) -no shes having them 2mrrw shes gotta ive decided-

 

(11:37p) >Daryl's law, huh?<

 

(11:38p) ~fate will decide, my friend, and i'm feeling good about it.~

 

(11:39p) -ugh-

 

(11:39p) -w/e im gna lay here in bed n pretend 2 b aslp while i keep track of carols contractions-

 

(11:40p) >Keep us updated!<

 

(11:41p) ~yeah i'll keep my phone volume up while i'm sleeping and i'll keep it on me even during class so fill us in on everything whenever you get a chance.~

 

(11:42p) -k i will-

 

(11:43p) >This time tomorrow there might be babies.<

 

(11:43p) ~this time plus 17 minutes.~

 

(11:45p) -mite b a dad real soon-

 

(11:46p) >Real real soon.<

 

(11:47p) -yeah im officially freaking out-

 

(11:48p) ~we'd expect nothing less. give carol our well wishes once she stops pretending nothing's happening.~

 

(11:49p) -k-

 

(11:50p) >Hang in there, brother. Your twins are on their way.<

 

—-

 

_ September 6th _

_ Tuesday (early) _

 

“Daryl?” Carol says quietly. It’s nearly three in the morning and Daryl’s been dozing in and out, but mostly out, as he’s listened to Carol have contractions for the past several hours. “Daryl, wake up.”

 

“Not asleep,” Daryl says, rolling over onto his other side to face her. His eyes are adjusted to the dark enough for him to make out the worried look on her face. “What’s wrong?”

 

“I think I’m in labor,” she says, and Daryl fights the urge to laugh.

 

“Oh, are we admitting it now?” he asks. It receives him a smack on the arm. He does snort at that, as he strains his arm over to the bedside table to click on the lamp. “How are you feeling?” he asks, softer.

 

“The contractions from earlier won’t go away,” she says nervously. “And they hurt.”

 

“How bad are you hurtin’?” Daryl asks, pushing her hair back from her face.

 

“I dunno, it’s like really bad period cramps, so tolerable but not fun.”

 

“Okay,” Daryl says, sitting up. “Should we call the Doc?”

 

“What if she tells us to go to the hospital?” 

 

“Then we’ll go to the hospital,” Daryl says calmly. “It’ll be okay, sweetheart, we’ve prepared for this, we’ll get you through it.”

 

Carol huffs a sigh and rubs her face with her hands. She winces then.

 

“Ugh, feel this,” she says, taking Daryl’s hand and placing it on her giant belly. Her whole middle is hard as a rock. He grimaces.

 

“Doubt that feels great,” he says sympathetically.

 

“It doesn’t,” she agrees, taking a long, deep breath and blowing it out in a stream through pursed lips. “Okay,” she relents once the pain seems to have passed. “I’ll call the doctor.”

 

Relieved, Daryl finds her phone for her as she pushes her awkward body up so her back is flush against the headboard of the bed. She takes her phone from him and easily pulls up and dials Dr. Al-Hadid’s on-call number.

 

Daryl waits not-so-patiently as Carol answers a series of questions for the doctor on the other end of the line.

 

“I’m not sure how far apart they are exactly,” she says at one point.

 

“Fifteen minutes,” Daryl supplies for her. Carol draws her lips into a thin line and says,

 

“Never mind, I guess Daryl was keeping track when he was pretending to be asleep. He says they’re fifteen minutes apart.” After a moment Carol looks at him and adds, “She says keep up the good work. Not sure I share the sentiment.” 

 

Carol finishes up the conversation with a lot of “uh huhs” and “okays” before thanking the doctor and hanging up. 

 

“So what’s the deal?” Daryl asks, tapping his fingers on his thigh involuntarily. 

 

“She said I don’t have to go in yet, thank God. She wants it to progress further first. She suggested I try and get some rest and food, and then we should do ‘calming activities,’ whatever the fuck that means, to try and ‘get things moving.’”

 

“What sort of calming activities?”

 

“She suggested a hot shower or a short walk. I guess she wants me to try and keep moving around once I’m up for the day? And once the contractions are five to eight minutes apart, or I can’t talk through them, then we’re supposed to let her know and then go to the Hell place.”

 

“You mean the hospital?”

 

“Sure.”

 

Daryl regards her. Her hands are clenched around the comforter, the fabric bunched up in her tight fists. She’s worrying her bottom lip between her teeth the way he does whenever he’s feeling some unsavory emotion. The thought that this appears to be the big It that they’ve been leading up to sends a wave of fear through him that he quickly squashes down. It’s his Carol Override that allows him to do it—she needs his reassurance more than he needs hers, and so that’s exactly what he’s going to provide.

 

“Let’s try and get you some sleep while we still can,” Daryl says, impressed with his own pragmaticism. Carol swallows hard.

 

“I dunno if I can,” she whispers.

 

“The pain?”

 

“The anxiety.”

 

Daryl nods. Wordlessly he helps her get back into a laying down position on her side with her back to him. He adjusts her body pillow around her and turns off the lamp. He slides down beside her and starts kneading her lower back and hips.

 

“Rest, then,” he whispers in her ear. “If you can’t sleep then try and rest. Doc’s right—you’re gonna need your energy.”

 

“Okay,” Carol says under her breath, burrowing in closer to Daryl. “Will you talk to me?”

 

“Sure. ‘Bout what?”

 

“Anything. My mind is going a million miles an hour. I need to focus on just one thing.”

 

Daryl thinks for a minute. He’s not exactly known for coming up with conversation topics on the fly.

 

“Did you know I thought you were really pretty that first day I talked to you?” he asks softly, going with the first thing that pops into his head.

 

“No, you never told me that,” Carol whispers, a smile in her voice.

 

“I was already all awkward and shit ‘cause I ain’t talked to nobody by choice in God knows how long, and then you were hanging onto me on the bike and we pulled up to the diner and you shook all’a that hair of yours outta my helmet you was wearing, and I was just all kinds of tongue-tied.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Mmhm. And when I went in the diner and you greeted me all cute and peppy, I was so confused ‘cause I couldn’t stop thinkin’, ‘damn, this girl is  _ so  _ pretty.’ I never thought things like that; never used to give a damn. Like, sure there was girls that I knew were pretty just like, in general or whatever, but you was the first I ever looked right at and got flustered by. How dumb is that? And sometimes, even after we became friends, I’d have days where I couldn’t even look you in the eye ‘cause I was still keepin’ my feelings for you a secret and you woulda saw right through me ‘cause you were so damn gorgeous I woulda never have been able to lie about it.”

 

“You really never had any other girls you thought were hot? No one you’d sneak peeks at here and there?”

 

“Nah, not really. Nobody interested me much. Turns out I got a very specific type.”

 

“Mm,” Carol hums. “And what type is that?”

 

Daryl leans over to brush a quick kiss on her cheek. In her ear he whispers,

 

“You.” 

 

—-

 

Carol manages a few hours of fitful sleep, punctuated by soft, unconscious groans as the regular, but still mild, pains sweep through her.

 

Daryl, on the other hand, doesn’t sleep at all. He knows he’ll probably pay for it later, but it can’t be helped. It’s as though by talking Carol’s blazing worries down into a simmer he’s forgotten to manage his own, and in his neglect they’ve grown out of control.

 

In the periods of time where Carol is asleep, Daryl takes advantage and allows himself minor freakouts, just to get some of it out of his system.

 

(5:37a) -playing waiting game on docs orders prob will go 2 the hospital l8r 2day. carols asleep. im not. tell me everythings gonna go ok cuz im spiraling-

 

(5:39a) ~everything is gonna be okay.~

 

(5:40a) >Everything will be more than okay, brother.<

 

(5:41a) ~it’ll be a rough few hours but soon your kids will be heroes.~

 

(5:41a) ~*here.~

 

(5:41a) ~though maybe heroes. maybe they’ll have superpowers. maybe your twins will be mutants and will form their own x-men society.~

 

(5:42a) -i’ll settle 4 them just bein alive n healthy-

 

(5:42a) -also y r u guys awake?-

 

(5:43a) ~told you we’d keep text alert on.~

 

(5:44a) -well fukin stop tht go back 2 slp-

 

(5:45a) >Rofl, you texted us.<

 

(5:45a) ~he’s in dad mode already.~

 

(5:46a) -stfu n go 2 slp i’ll lyk whn we go 2 the hospital-

 

(5:47a) ~okay. text if you need us though, it’s chill.~

 

(5:48a) -thnx-

 

(5:49a) >It’ll all be okay.<

 

(5:50a) -yeah-

 

(5:50a) -(asjldfjakla;)-

 

—-

 

After breakfast, where Daryl insists on Carol eating a second bowl of cereal and some toast made from that bread she made him buy that he called, “fancy rich people bread will all them whole grains and seeds and shit,” so that she has energy, they get into the shower together. There’s not a lot of room, and Daryl sacrifices himself to make sure she’s under the hot, steaming water, her front facing the showerhead, while Daryl soaps her body and washes her hair.

 

“You okay?” he asks her when another pain hits her and she reaches out and uses the wall to keep her balance.

 

“Mhm,” she says, jaw clenched shut, and Daryl rubs her back until she breathes normally again.

 

“They’re gettin’ stronger,” he says.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Closer together, too.”

 

“Yeah.” 

 

“Think this is really it,” he says, helping her rinse the suds off her skin.

 

“Seems like it,” Carol agrees, and she doesn’t sound particularly pleased about it. Daryl drops a kiss in between her wet shoulder blades.

 

“It’s okay to be scared,” he says.

 

“Aren’t you supposed to tell me not to be afraid?” she asks. She can’t see it from where she’s facing, but Daryl shakes his head.

 

“Nah, ‘cause that’s pointless—we’re both gonna be afraid—but that’s okay. We’ll get through it anyway.  _ You’ll  _ get through it.”

 

“Mm, what makes you so sure?”

 

“‘Cause there ain’t nobody tougher than you.” He wraps his arms around her and nuzzles the side of her face. “C’mon. Let’s get you outta here before it gets cold.”

 

Carol shuts off the water, and Daryl helps her carefully step out of the tub—not and easy feat—and he starts drying her off. He slides the towel down both of her legs, up her back, and down her front.

 

“That never gets less weird,” Daryl says as he sees movement under the skin of her belly while he dries it off. He can see both of the twins kicking at Carol’s sides, almost like she’s got some alien creature inside her trying to bust out.

 

“You’re telling me,” Carol says, looking down at herself. “They’re antsy this morning.”

 

“They know they’re gettin’ evicted,” Daryl says, grabbing Carol’s robe and helping her into it before drying himself off.

 

“Aren’t we legally supposed to give a thirty day’s notice?” Carol asks, leaning against the sink.

 

“They can take it up with the civil courts,” Daryl says, lacing his fingers through hers. “Though I dunno why they’d wanna. I’d say they’re upgrading. Way more square footage out here than in there.”

 

Carol huffs a laugh. She then shuts her eyes and grimaces, squeezing Daryl’s hands. Daryl waits patiently for it to pass. Her breathing evens out and she shakes her head, eyes still closed.

 

“How long was that from the last one?” she asks.

 

“Less than ten. Pro’ly closer to eight.”

 

“Mm, not looking forward to these getting worse. They’re not exactly a walk in the park as is.”

 

“You definitely got the shit end of the stick here, that’s for sure.”

 

“Tell me about it,” Carol says, opening her eyes to give him a tired smile. “I go through all this pain and blood and suffering, and all you gotta do is wait and then you get babies at the end.”

 

“Yeah, but them hospital chairs are real uncomfortable, though,” Daryl says, and laughs when she smacks him on the arm. He kisses her knuckles and says, “Speaking of walks in the park, let’s go take Henry out and see if we can’t get these kids to move faster.”

 

“I suppose Henry does deserve a little quality time before he’s no longer an only child,” Carol agrees with a sigh, pulling away from Daryl and waddling towards the bedroom to get dressed. Daryl, with his towel wrapped around his waist, follows close behind.

 

—-

 

By three in the afternoon Carol can no longer speak through her contractions except to make a low moaning sound that resonates in the back of her throat. She’s leaning against Daryl, her forehead pressed to his chest, as they sway back and forth through her pain.

 

“Baby?” Daryl says softly into her hair once the most recent pain has passed.

 

“Mm?” she mumbles.

 

“I think we should call the Doc and let her know it’s time for us to go in.”

 

Carol tenses.

 

“Just a little longer,” she says, voice muffled against his shirt. Daryl twists his mouth.

 

“It’s time, sweetheart, we gotta get you checked out. Doc says you gotta be monitored. It’ll be just fine. We got everything we talked about to help keep you calm, alright?”

 

For a long moment Carol says nothing. Finally, she lifts her head and looks at Daryl, fear in her eyes. 

 

“What if I can’t do it?” she asks, biting her lower lip. Daryl shakes his head.

 

“I’m worrying about at least ten thousand different things right now, but that ain’t one of ‘em,” he tells her. “I know you can do it.”

 

“Promise?”

 

“Promise. Hell, I’ll even swear on your weird Duolingo Owl.” Carol smiles a little and he kisses the top of her head. “You ready?” he asks her.

 

“No,” she says. “But let’s go.”

 

—-

 

(3:44p) -goin 2 the hospital-

 

(3:46p) >It’s time?<

 

(3:47p) -its time-

 

(3:48p) ~it’s time!~

 

(3:49p) ~ _ dumbass changed the group name to “IT’S TIME!!!” _ ~

 

—-

 

Carol has a death grip on Daryl’s hand all the way across the hospital parking lot, which means Daryl is balancing all their things in one arm, but he’s not about to complain. They pause outside the doors for Carol to breathe through a pain. She leans against the brick wall, and Daryl adjusts the duffel bag and pillow he’s carrying before placing a hand on her hip and waiting patiently with her, trying and failing not to think about how it’s only an uphill battle from here.

 

“Good?” Daryl asks her softly when she straightens back up. She lets out a shaky breath and casts a wary glance at the double doors nearby with people filtering in and out of them every now and then.

 

“Define good,” she says, rubbing her belly absently and thunking her head back against the wall. She pouts her lower lip and Daryl leans over and kisses it. He takes her hand again and tugs gently. With reluctance, she follows.

 

They take the elevator up to the maternity ward and Daryl checks them in while Carol takes a seat in a small reception area. For once, all the paperwork has been filed out ahead of time, and the two of them don’t even have to bother with a waiting room because they’re led back by a nurse shortly after arriving.

 

The room they’re taken to is bright with florescent lighting and jarring white walls. Carol takes a sharp intake of breath and pauses in the doorway. Behind her, Daryl rubs her shoulders and whispers,

 

“Remember what the Doc said. We’ll only be in here long enough for them to check you out, and then we’ll go to our own room where it'll be a whole lot better, alright?”

 

Carol swallows hard and nods, resuming her steps and going over to the examination bed where the young nurse is beckoning her. Daryl helps her up and the nurse takes her vitals.

 

“Your blood pressure is a little high,” says the nurse with a hint of concern. 

 

Daryl, who has been mentally preparing himself for weeks to be Carol’s voice when necessary, says,

 

“Doc said—sorry, Dr. Al-Hadid—she said to check her blood pressure after we been here a while ‘cause her numbers always go up when she first goes to hospitals. She don’t like ‘em much; makes her anxious.”

 

Carol looks at him gratefully, and he rubs her upper back.

 

“Alright,” says the nurse, making a note in her chart. “We’ll run it again when we take you to labor and delivery. Now, Carol, can you tell me how far apart your contractions are?”

 

“They’re about five minutes now, I think,” she mumbles. 

 

“Pain on a scale of one to ten?”

 

“I dunno, a five? Six, maybe?”

 

“Has your water broken?” 

 

“No.”

 

“And you said you’ve been having pains pretty consistently since last night?”

 

“Yeah.” 

 

The nurse jots down whatever it is nurses are always scribbling on those clipboards of theirs, and then looks up and gives Carol a smile.

 

“I’m going to step out and let you slip out of your bottoms and then we’ll do an exam to see where we’re at, alright?”

 

“Cool,” Carol deadpans, and the nurse laughs.

 

“Trust me, hon, by the time your labor really gets going the whole hospital could be looking at you down there and you wouldn’t care a bit.”

 

“Not helpful,” Carol mutters once the nurse is out of the room. “Oh ow, goddamnit.” She grimaces and presses her hand to her belly.

 

“Guess they ain’t too impressed with her neither,” Daryl says, and Carol manages a tiny huff of laughter.

 

“‘By the time your labor really gets going,’ she said. That means this shit ain’t nothin’ compared to what I’m in for, huh?” Carol asks once it’s passed. Daryl helps her slip off her shoes and bottoms.

 

“Don’t listen to her. Do what the Doc said and take it one step at a time,” he says.

 

“Easy for you to say,” Carol says, sticking her tongue out at him. Daryl smiles apologetically. He takes her head in his hands and kisses her forehead.

 

The nurse comes back a few minutes later. She and Daryl sit with Carol through another contraction before the nurse has Carol spread eagle on the table ungracefully in order to check how things are progressing. Carol scowls at the ceiling the whole time, and Daryl almost wants to laugh at her grumpy pout, but he values his life too much.

 

The nurse announces that Carol’s four centimeters, partially effaced, and other things that several months ago would have been complete nonsense to Daryl. He’s done his homework, however, and knows that there’s no going back now. The nurse makes the official declaration that Carol is in labor, and they are granted access to the fancier rooms down the hall.

 

Carol looks calmer the moment they walk into their actual room. Not  _ calm _ , per say, but calmer, and this by extension makes Daryl feel better as well.

 

The lighting, by request, is dimmer and much less clinical. There’s a bed that looks a little more comfortable than the one in the previous room, and a big, red yoga ball is in the corner that they’re free to use as needed. 

 

“Go ahead and get settled,” the nurse says. “Dr. Al-Hadid requested to meet with you and get you all hooked up herself. She should be in to see you in just a little a while.”

 

The two of them thank her, and Carol rolls the yoga ball out and sits on it, using her legs to gently rock herself back and forth.

 

“‘Kay, show me what we got to make this less terrible,” she says. In response, Daryl pulls up a chair, sits, and starts unloading all of the things they’d discussed with Dr. Al-Hadid.

 

“Pillow from home, obviously,” Daryl says, holding up the pillow he’s been carrying. He tosses it onto the bed and starts rifling through their hospital bag. “Bluetooth speaker so you can blast Fleetwood Mac on loop and drive all the other patients crazy,” he says, holding up the portable speaker. 

 

“You mean enhance everyone’s labor experiences,” Carol says.

 

“Sure.”

 

“What else?”

 

“Picture of you momma,” Daryl says, holding one framed photo. He pulls out another and adds, “Picture of Henry.”

 

“Just as essential.”

 

Daryl digs to the bottom of the bag and holds out a tiny object.

 

“I threw this one in. It’s the most important one. We got your Duolingo Owl crucifix you still have for some reason,” he says, and he’s proud when that earns him a genuine laugh.

 

“Guess this is as close to home as we’re ever gonna make this place be,” Carol sighs. “Can you check my phone and see if my aunt said if she’s on her way or not?”

 

“Mhm,” Daryl says, searching through all their stuff until he finds her phone. He opens it with her passcode he already knows and pulls up her messages. “She said she’s gonna hop in the shower and feed the cats and will head out after, so pro’ly not too long.”

 

“Okay. And remember, you have to run interference.”

 

“Yup, if she starts pissing you off she’s gotta go, I remember.”

 

“And I only want you there during the delivery. There’ll be enough people around in that operating room making me anxious without her fussing over me. Don’t let her guilt you into anything.”

 

“I won’t, sweetheart, I promise.”

 

Carol nods. She sighs and, rocking on her ball some more, looks around the room, clicking her tongue.

 

“It’s really happening, huh?” she says.

 

“I know, I’m feelin’ the same way,” Daryl says.

 

“Last day as childfree teenagers.”

 

“Mm. Anything left you wanted to do before havin’ kids?”

 

“Backpack through Europe?” Carol suggests, and Daryl snorts.

 

“Might not have the time. ‘Sides, you don’t wanna go to Europe. I hear France is there.”

 

Carol grins.

 

“Fuck that, then,” she says. “Guess that means I’m ready.”

 

Daryl takes her hand and nods.

 

“Guess I am, too.”

 

—-

 

“How often do I have to be on the monitors?” Carol asks as Dr. Al-Hadid sterilizes a spot along her spine, her hospital gown undone and pushed open from the back. 

 

“Let’s start with every forty-five minutes,” Dr. Al-Hadid suggests, prepping a long, thin needle that makes Daryl blanch. “You can be up and about however much you want in between.”

 

“Except I have to lug all this shit around with me,” Caryl says, sneering at the machines she’s hooked up to. Dr. Al-Hadid had explained to them that high risk pregnancies need more observation, but she was willing to compromise if Carol was willing to be hooked up to portable monitors and let the nurses examine her in bed every so often.

 

And also she had to have an epidural catheter placed in her back. Carol is still adamant about not receiving anything that will prevent her from moving about freely, and while she’s been supportive, Dr. Al-Hadid has been upfront since the beginning that Carol’s at a higher risk of an emergency C-section, particularly with a breech baby, and they need to be able to administer drugs quickly should it come to that.

 

Which is why Daryl is currently trying to keep a neutral face as Carol’s told to stay completely still while Dr. Al-Hadid stabs her between two vertebrae.

 

“Okay?” he asks Carol once the catheter is in place.

 

“That was nothing compared to the contractions,” she says in response, which does not fill him with any amount of confidence.

 

Dr. Al-Hadid lets Carol escape back to her yoga ball, where she rolls to where Daryl is and holds her hands out to him—her preferred position at the moment, which Daryl is happy to oblige.

 

Not long later a knock comes at the door, followed by a, “Yoohoo!” as Carol’s aunt opens it a crack and peeks her head in. “How’s everyone doing in here?”

 

“Daryl’s fine,” Carol says. “My uterus is currently trying to squeeze two human beings out of a tiny hole, so I’ve been better.”

 

Carol’s aunt makes a “tsk” sound with an accompanying frown. She comes over and rubs Carol between the shoulders. 

 

“Have they said how long they think it’ll be?” she asks. At that Carol lets out a grunt and her hands clench around Daryl’s in a way that’s become familiar. He holds her tight, letting her guide their positioning. 

 

“Try not to hold your breath, baby,” he reminds her quietly. “Make sure you breathe.”

 

“If I do that it’ll come out as screams,” Carol says once the pain passes.

 

“Then scream if you gotta,” Daryl says simply, and Carol huffs.

 

“Well it can’t be that long if they’re that strong,” Carol’s aunt says.

 

“I was four when I came in,” Carol mumbles, rolling herself in a slow circle, pulling away from Daryl to stretch her back. “My doctor checked just a little bit ago and said I was at least a five now, though.”

 

“Halfway there!” Carol’s aunt says in a high-pitched squee, clapping her hands together. Carol casts Daryl a long-suffering look and he suppresses a smile.

 

“Daryl, sweetie, can I borrow you for a moment?” Carol’s aunt asks then. He furrows his brow.

 

“For what?” he asks, reluctant to leave Carol’s side for even a moment.

 

“It’ll just take a second,” she says cryptically, motioning towards the door. Daryl hesitates.

 

“I’ll be right outside, arlight?” he tells Carol, who gives a bemused, “Okay.” He gets up from his chair and follows Carol’s aunt out into the hallway.

 

“What is it?” he asks, crossing his arms, half his mind still in the room where Carol is sitting alone.

 

“It’s her father,” she says in a whisper. Daryl’s hackles are immediately raised.

 

“What about ‘im?” 

 

“He and Maria, they’re in the waiting room.”

 

Daryl blinks.

 

“What?”

 

“I had no intention of taking them here. I figured Carol didn’t need the stress. I know she and her father butt heads.”

 

“Then why is he here?” Daryl asks sharply, and Carol’s aunt grimaces.

 

“I told him she was in labor,” she says sheepishly, and Daryl sets his jaw.

 

“We didn’t ask you to do that,” he says, trying to stay calm.

 

“I know, and if I knew he would actually come to the hospital I never would have, but I just thought he deserved to know.”

 

“It wasn’t up to you to decide that,” Daryl snaps. When Carol’s aunt flinches he sighs and says softer, “This is hard enough on her already, she can’t know he’s here.”

 

“I told the nurses that before I came in, and so far they’re keeping him out, but I’m sure he’s in the waiting room pitching a fit. Stubborn man, he is, he’ll probably sit out there for days and catch you going out the front doors when you’re discharged if he has to.”

 

“Why does he even want to be here?”

 

“He doesn’t approve, but he still doesn’t wish harm on her. He wants to make sure she’s okay.”

 

“Just her, though, right? He couldn’t give two shits about his grandkids.”

 

Carol’s aunt hems and haws a minute before admitting, “He’s still not taken with the idea, no. I think there’s a part of him that’s hoping Carol will ‘come to her senses’ as it were and...I don’t even know what.”

 

“Yeah you do,” Daryl says. “He wants her to give ‘em up. He don’t see them as kin at all. He sees ‘em as Dixons and nothin’ else.” Daryl shakes his head, fuming. He drops his arms and starts down the hallway.

 

“Wait,” Carol’s aunt says, stopping him in his tracks. “Where are you going?”

 

“To tell him to get out,” Daryl says, and Carol’s aunt sighs.

 

“What do I tell Carol?”   
  


“Any excuse you can think of, but don’t you dare tell her the truth. She isn’t gonna know about this when she needs to focus on labor. I promise I’ll tell her later, but not now.”

 

“Not now,” Carol’s aunt agrees. She gives him a wave of permission, not that he needs it, and he heads to the waiting room, trying to control himself. The last thing Carol needs is for him to get tossed out of the hospital for making a scene.

 

Carol’s dad is sat in a plastic chair with a stiff cushion on it, flipping through a  _ Reader’s Digest _ with a pair of reading glasses on, while his fiance Maria taps her foot on the floor and looks around the room anxiously. She sees Daryl before he announces himself, and she elbows Carol’s dad in the side to get his attention.

 

Carol’s dad glances up and his eyes narrow when they land on Daryl. He removes his glasses and leans back in his chair, regarding him with an expression like he’s just smelled something foul.

 

“You have to leave,” Daryl says, coming up in front of them and keeping his voice level. The only other people in the room are a twenty-something guy watching a movie on a tablet, and an elderly woman crocheting what looks to be a tiny pink hat.

 

“I will once I see my daughter,” says Carol’s dad. “As it is, the nurses are saying I’ve been asked not to come back to her room right now.”

 

“That’s cause you ain’t goin’ to go see her right now. We’ll text you to let you know she’s okay, and if she decides she wants to see you,  _ then  _ you can come, but until she makes that choice I ain’t lettin’ you near her.”

 

Carol’s dad chews on the inside of his cheek before plopping his magazine down on the table, leaning forward with his hands on his knees, and letting out a humorless laugh.

 

“You’ve got a lot of nerve, you know that?” he says conversationally. “Talking to me like that when you’re the one who’s ruined my daughter.” Not her life, Daryl notes, but  _ her _ . He bristles.

 

“I don’t keep Carol chained to me. Everything she does she does it knowin’ she has a choice.”

 

“Fat load of help that is when she’s convinced herself she’s in love with a degenerate like you. You know, if you really cared about her you’d let her sign over her rights to your little bastards, and then get far away from her.”

 

Daryl actually has to take a moment and practice the breathing techniques he’s been using on Carol to prevent himself from socking Carol’s dad directly in the face.

 

“Do not,” he says slowly. “Call my children that again. Ever.”

 

“You have nothing to offer her,” Carol’s dad says pragmatically. “You come from nothing, you  _ are  _ nothing, everyone in this town knows that. And now you want my daughter to live in some shack, raising your babies, while you raid the liquor store like your father? Or end up in prison like your brother? You’re only ever gonna hold her back, Daryl. If you really do love her, you’ll turn away and never look back.”

 

Daryl feels like the wind’s been knocked out of him as he stands there listening to Carol’s dad recite every insecurity Daryl’s had about himself his whole life like it’s just a fact he picked up on the evening news. His anger fades and is replaced with embarrassment and shame. He swallows hard.

 

“Sit here as long as you want, but you’re not welcome and you’re not going to be allowed to see her unless she says otherwise,” he says flatly. He turns to leave, not wanting to hear what else Carol’s dad wants to throw at him, when a thought hits him.

 

He’d told Dr. Peterson some time ago that he wanted his children to like themselves, despite being Dixons, and when she’d tried to explain to him that it’s not the name but the actions that make a person, he wasn’t in a place to hear it.

 

But in a matter of hours he’s going to be a father, and what kind of way is it to start out parenthood by letting someone hurl abuse at him and taking it just because he’s used to it?

 

He pauses, gathering his nerve, and turns around to face Carol’s dad again.

 

“By the way,” he adds, using every ounce of his willpower to maintain eye contact. “You don’t get to talk to me like that neither. You don’t get to call me nothin’, and no matter what you think, I  _ will  _ provide for her, and I  _ will  _ encourage her to be whatever it is she wants to be, plus I’m gonna be a  _ damn  _ good father. Way better than mine ever was, and sure as hell better than you. So you can take your town gossip, and every shitty assumption you got about me, and shove ‘em straight up your ass.” He clears his throat, squares his shoulders, and adds, “Now, I’m leavin’ to go be with my girl, ‘cause she needs me, and if I see you anywhere near our room, I’m gettin’ the nurses to call security, right then and there, no questions asked, so stay the fuck away.”

 

He stalks off without waiting for a response, his heart going a mile a minute, but the tiniest of smiles forming on his lips.

 

—-

 

(8:28p) -gettin close carols water broke a bit ago n shes in a shitton of pain n its terrible. told her daddy 2 shove it up the ass earlier. weird day. i’ll update u when i can g2g tho ttyl-

 

(8:32p) >Give Carol our good vibes!<

 

(8:33p) ~hang in there, my deer fiend.~

 

(8:33p) ~uh.~

 

(8:33p) ~*dear friend.~

 

(8:34p) >Idiot.<

 

—-

 

Carol is clinging onto Daryl’s arm, sobbing into his side, and his heart is broken as she begs him over and over to make the pain stop even though there’s nothing he can do.

 

To add insult to injury, Dr. Al-Hadid has her hand up Carol’s vagina while a nurse reads the monitors, and Carol’s aunt keeps rubbing Carol’s shoulder and saying, “Oh poor baby, poor baby,” over and over. If they count the early contractions she started with on Sunday night, Carol’s been in labor for well over twenty four hours.

 

“Good news, Carol,” Dr. Al-Hadid says, straightening up and snapping off her gloves. “You’re fully dilated, Baby A’s head is engaged, you’ve thinned out nicely—I’d say we’re ready to go.” 

 

After hours and hours of listening to the woman he loves groan and moan and scream in pain, relief overshadows Daryl’s fear. It’s almost over. He knows Carol isn’t going to see it that way, however, so he immediately turns to her and cups her face in his hands. She looks up at him, completely spent and scared. He says,

 

“Sweetie listen to me, alright? This is the part that I know you’ve been freakin’ out about. I ain’t gonna tell you that the operating room’s gonna be nice and calm, ‘cause it pro’ly ain’t, but I don’t want you to think about that. When you get in there all I want you to think about is gettin’ them babies outta there. And Imma be right by you the whole time, I swear. They’re gonna dress me up in some operating room clothes that you can laugh at me about, and then I’m gonna stand there with you and I ain’t leavin’ for nothin’.”

 

Carol nods slightly, tears in her eyes. Daryl leans down and presses his lips to her forehead for a long moment, before coming up and brushing his thumbs over her cheeks.

 

“Almost there, darlin’,” he whispers. 

 

“Daryl, let’s get you in some scrubs and we’ll wheel Carol down the hall, alright?” Dr. Al-Hadid says. “And Carol, just so you know, I convinced them to put on Fleetwood Mac in there. I had to fight for it, ‘cause one of my nurses hates them.”

 

Carol manages a small laugh, and Daryl thanks God, the Universe, and the Duolingo Owl for having the doctor that they do.

 

The operating room is what Daryl assumes is Carol’s worst nightmare. The lights are blinding, it smells like antiseptic, and it’s got this chaotic energy running through it as everyone navigates past one another, getting everything prepped. 

 

Daryl is right where he said he’d be, dressed in light blue scrubs, holding onto Carol’s hand for dear life. Her aunt had been reluctant to leave, but Daryl managed to shake her before they got here, and now Daryl tries to pretend like it’s just the two of them, because if he can tune out the chaos, maybe it’ll help her do it too.

 

Dr. Al-Hadid has Carol spread her legs, and what feels like a thousand people all gather around and stare, and Carol doesn’t seem to give a single shit, the nurse from the beginning having been right. Everything Daryl knows about the rules of public indecency seems not to apply here. In a way, it feels like the most basic, primal thing, this process of giving birth, like they’ve been reduced to the most fundamental instincts of reproduction. Carol probably wouldn’t appreciate the comparison, but Daryl, who has always done better in nature than anywhere else, finds comfort in it.

 

“Baby A’s head is right there, Carol,” Dr. Al-Hadid says. “On your next contraction I want you to bare down into your bottom and give a big push, alright?” 

 

When the pain comes, Carol takes a deep breath and pushes, her face turning as red as Daryl’s fingers as she squeezes them hard enough to cut off the circulation, but he doesn’t even notice. He’s too busy whispering reassurances to her in contrast to the loud demands of the doctor and nurses saying, “Come on, come on, come on!” 

 

“That was great, Carol, now do it again, give me that same energy,” says Dr. Al-Hadid, and Carol does it again, screaming like she’s being torn in two.

 

“She’s crowning, Carol, her head’s right there!” one of the nurses tells her several times.

 

“Oh my fucking God, stop telling me her head’s there. I  _ know _ it’s there I can fucking feel it,” Carol spits at the poor nurse, and Daryl grins.

 

“Atta girl,” he whispers in her ear. “Now ignore them and just keep goin’, you’re doin’ so good.” 

 

During her next push Daryl hazards a glance at where all the action is happening. 

 

“Holy fuck, sweetheart,” he says. “I can see her. She’s got hair an’ everything.”

 

“She’s really close, Carol,” Dr. Al-Hadid says. “Just give me a few more strong pushes.”

 

Daryl watches, transfixed, as a full head pops out of Carol, followed by shoulders, and then, all at once, a whole body slides out in a rush, and suddenly a baby is being placed on Carol’s heaving chest.

 

“Oh my God,” Carol breathes, tucking her chin down to look at their daughter while the nurses wipe her down with towels. “Hi, baby.” 

 

Daryl stares at her completely paralyzed for several seconds, before he melts all at once and reaches out and takes hold of a tiny hand.

 

“Whoa,” he says under his breath. He can’t take his eyes off of her.

 

“Why isn’t she crying?” Carol asks nervously.

 

“She’s a good color and she’s got those eyes open,” Dr. Al-Hadid says, checking on her. “She’s just being stubborn. Give her a few good pats on the back. She’s gonna want to clear her airway.”

 

Carol looks to Daryl, who swallows and sort of rub-pats his daughter on the back. Finally, after a few rounds of this, she lets out a wail that makes Daryl’s heart jump to his throat. He grins so wide his face hurts, and he plants a kiss, first on Carol’s forehead, and then on his daughter’s.

 

“We gotta move a little fast here, Carol, we still have one more to go,” Dr. Al-Hadid says. WIthout warning she holds a pair of surgical scissors out to Daryl expectantly. “Want to cut the cord?” she asks him. 

 

“Yeah,” Daryl mutters. He takes the scissors from her and she shows him where to cut right in front of the clamp. He snips through it, and suddenly the baby is no longer a part of Carol—she’s her own person. 

 

She’s scooped up from Carol’s chest by one of the nurses, and Daryl is faced with a dilemma he didn’t anticipate. He looks to Carol who nods.

 

“Go with her,” she says. “Make sure she’s okay. He’s not coming yet.”

 

“I’ll be right back,” Daryl assures her, kissing her on the mouth this time before going over to where the nurses are cleaning and swaddling the baby.

 

“Look at all this hair,” one of the nurses muses, moving to the side so Daryl can see her properly. “Does she have a name?”

 

Without even thinking about it, Daryl says, “Josie. Her name’s Josie.” 

 

“That’s a beautiful name,” says the nurse. Daryl barely even hears her. He holds a finger out and Josie instinctively wraps her whole hand around it, and Daryl is so in love he almost can’t stand it.

 

“Hey sweet thing,” he says softly. “Happy birthday. Glad to meet you finally. I gotta go meet your brother now, but I promise I’m just over there, I ain’t goin’ far, okay?” 

 

He hesitates, reluctant to leave. The nurse smiles gently at him and says, “Go watch your son being born. She’ll still be here when you get back.”

 

Daryl nods absently and forces himself to move away. He goes back to Carol, who is currently screaming obscenities at the doctor as she checks the positioning of Baby B.

 

“I know, honey, I know that had to hurt,” Dr. Al-Hadid says apologetically. She straightens up and meets Carol’s eye. “Time to get serious, here, okay?” she says. “Your baby boy is still breech. I’m willing to give it a go if you are, but we’re gonna need to be on the same page here. I need you to focus and give me everything you got, and I’ll do the same for you.”

 

“Okay,” Carol manages, reaching out for Daryl again, who takes her hand and gives it a squeeze. “How is she?” she asks him, voice strained and scrunching her face at the pain.

 

“Perfect,” Daryl assures her. “Perfect and just fine, so you do as the Doc says and focus on gettin’ our lil’ boy out. You’re so close, sweetheart, so close.” 

 

Carol gives a solid nod, takes a deep breath, and bares down again, harder than she has thus far. 

 

“That’s it, Carol, good job,” Dr. Al-Hadid says. “He’s coming the wrong way but he’s coming fast, you’re gonna have another baby here in just a minute if you keep giving me pushes like that, so don’t lose it yet.”

 

Carol looks absolutely exhausted. She’s got errant strands of hair stuck to her temples with sweat, and she can barely keep her head from lolling to the side in between the pains. But even still she gives it all she’s got, and Daryl is awash with pride as baby number two gets closer and closer to freedom. 

 

“One more, Carol, give me one more.”

 

Her scream turns into a relieved gasp as their son comes into the world backwards. 

 

Just as with Josie, he’s dropped onto Carol’s chest, and Carol cries as she looks at him. Daryl, who thought he couldn’t feel any more overwhelmed with affection, is certain he’s going to burst the second he lays eyes on his son.

 

Unlike his sister, Jesse—because of course that’s his name—wastes no time letting out his first cry. He’s barely out ten seconds before he starts wailing at the top of his lungs, clearly emotional about being taken from his old home. 

 

“They’re here,” Carol says, looking away from Jesse to meet Daryl’s eye.

 

“They are. You did that. You did amazing.” He kisses her two times in a row and murmurs, “Thank you,” against her lips. 

 

“You’re gonna be a pro at this,” Dr. Al-Hadid jokes as she gives him the surgical scissors again. He laughs a little and cuts Jesse free. He’s scooped up by a nurse and taken over to where his sister has already quieted down. Daryl glances down at Carol and frowns when he notices she’s peakish.

 

“You alright?” he asks her. She tries to meet his eye, but it seems like she’s having a hard time focusing her gaze all of a sudden.

 

“Yeah, I’m just…” she trails off, seemingly unaware that she hasn’t finished her sentence. 

 

“Carol?” Daryl says, putting a hand to her cheek. “Is she okay?” he asks Dr. Al-Hadid. When she doesn’t answer he looks to see her working on Carol with a serious expression. “Is she okay?” he asks again, growing nervous now.

 

“Daryl, I’m going to need you to step out of the room for just a little bit, alright?” Dr. Al-Hadid says, turning to a nurse and quickly adding, “Get the pitocin.” 

 

“No,” Daryl says. “I’m not leaving her, I said I wouldn’t.” When he looks back at her he’s alarmed to see that she’s fallen unconscious in the time it’s taken him to ask the doctor a single question. “What’s happening to her?” he asks urgently.

 

“Makeeta, can you take Daryl out into the hall for me?” Dr. Al-Hadid says. 

 

“Here, come with me,” a nurse says, taking Daryl’s elbow. He yanks it away.

 

“No, fuck that, what’s going on. Tell me if she’s okay.”

 

“Daryl, Carol is having some bleeding and we just need the space to get her fixed up, alright? You don’t have to go far, just out into the hall, but you need to go right now.” The doctor is calm but firm, and Daryl stares at Carol’s expressionless face, before letting himself be led away from her. His stomach drops when he sees just how much blood there is, staining her legs, the table, and pooling on the floor.

 

“Is she dying?” he asks hoarsely.

 

“Just let them do their job,” the nurse says, and he has no choice but to go out into the hallway where he’s led to an uncomfortable bench. The nurse hurries back in and Daryl’s suddenly alone in an empty hospital hallway. A minute later, a different nurse comes out, her arms full of baby.

 

“They’re still working on her,” the nurse says before Daryl has a chance to ask. “But these two wanted to see their dad. Would you like to hold them?”

 

Wordlessly, Daryl nods, too many emotions hitting him at once for him to single out just one. The nurse helps him get both babies situated, and she gives him a reassuring pat on the shoulder and a promise to come get him as soon as there’s news.

 

He tries to swallow, but his mouth is dirt dry. He looks from one twin to the other, mind blank. 

 

Jesse is asleep in his swaddle, a blue hat fitted over his tiny head. He’s making tiny snoring noises on every inhale. He’s got Carol’s nose and mouth and Daryl bets he has her eyes.

 

Josie is awake, watching him. She yawns and Daryl smiles a little. Everyone was right—she’s got his face, and it’s so bizarre to see his own features mirrored in tiny form on someone else.

 

“It’s okay,” he whispers to them both, his Dad Override stemming his fear just enough for him to function. “It’ll be okay. I’m here.”

 

—-

 

_ September 7th _

_ Wednesday (early) _

 

Daryl sits by Carol’s bedside in the room she’d labored in as she blinks herself awake. She glances around in confusion until her eyes land on him, and the first thing she asks is, “Oh my God, please tell me I didn’t dream having the babies, I don’t want to have to do that again.” 

 

Daryl laughs, so glad to hear her voice that he wants to wrap himself around her in a giant embrace, except he can’t, because his hands are full.

 

“Look down,” he says to her. Her eyes fall to the two little bundles in his arms.

 

“Oh,” she says softly, reaching out towards them. “Hi.” She frowns at the back of her hand then, which has an IV attached to it. “What happened?”

 

“What do you remember?” Daryl asks.

 

“Giving birth, which was the most painful thing that’s ever happened to anyone ever, and then I was holding one of them, and then...I don’t know? I don’t remember?”

 

“Good, I’m glad. I didn’t want that to be a part of your memory of this.”

 

“Why? Did I black out or something? How’d I get back to our room?” 

 

“Um,” Daryl says, frowning. “You hemorrhaged. After Jesse was born. Doc says sometimes when you have multiple babies your uterus doesn’t contract enough to stop the bleeding or somethin’, I dunno. But you bled a lot and passed out and then they made me leave the room, and I didn’t know…” His voice cracks and he huffs a laugh, training his eyes up at the ceiling when they start to sting.  

 

“God, was it that bad?” Carol asks, alarmed. Daryl blows a breath out through his lips and shakes his head.

 

“I don’t think so. I don’t think it ever got to that point or nothin’. You ain’t even been out all that long. Doc says you was already dehydrated and exhausted, so you kinda just fainted and that was more scary than anything. She got fluids in you and shot you up with some drug to make your uterus do the thing, and also I guess they had to manually remove your placenta, so if you’re feelin’ kinda loopy it’s ‘cause they shot you up with some good pain killers ‘cause I guess that shit hurts like none other.”

 

“I thought I was feeling a little too high for it to just be endorphins,” Carol says, and Daryl smiles, but it fades quickly. “What is it?” she asks, and he knits his brows together.

 

“Nothin’ just…” He can’t stop it when tears roll down his cheeks, and he can’t wipe them away because he’s holding the babies, so he just has to let them be. “It’s just been a crazy twenty four hours, and I was afraid...There was a moment there were I really thought I might’ve lost you. That’s all.”

 

“You didn’t,” Carol says softly, and he nods. 

 

“I know. Thank Christ.” He searches her face. “I love you so much.” 

 

“I love you, too.” 

 

“Good, well,” he clears his throat. “Enough of that bullshit. You haven’t had a chance to meet these two properly. You wanna hold ‘em?”

 

“Very much,” Carol says. 

 

Daryl stands up and there is some awkward juggling while the two of them try to figure out how to transfer two babies from one person to the other. They’ll get used to it, he figures.

 

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess blue hat is boy and pink hat is girl?”

 

“Pfft, yeah.”

 

“You called him Jesse. Does that mean you’ve been calling her Josie?” Carol asks, smirking at him. He twists his mouth and shrugs sheepishly.

 

“Ain’t that what they look like?” he says. Carol looks at the twins for a long moment, and then smiles.

 

“Yeah,” she says. “It is. Josie and Jesse Dixon.”

 

Daryl frowns.

 

“Don’t you want them to have your name? At least hyphenated in there somewhere?”

 

“No,” Carol says simply. “I want them to be Dixons.”

 

“Oh,” Daryl says quietly, not sure what to say.

 

Carol presses a soft kiss to both of the babies’ foreheads. “Mommy loves you both,” she tells them quietly.

 

“They’re pretty neat kids, gotta say,” Daryl says. 

 

“They’re absolutely perfect.”

 

“Damn straight they are. And I said this before, but you might not remember, and even if you do it bears repeatin’: You did absolutely, goddamn incredible in there.”

 

“Thank you,” Carol says, but Daryl shakes his head.

 

“Nah, you don’t get it. What I saw you do in there—what you went through for the past day and a half—was the most amazing thing I ever saw, and I am  _ so _ proud of you.”

 

Carol smiles at him.

 

“Thank you,” she says, more sincerely this time. “I’m never letting you near my vagina again, though.”

 

“That’s fair,” Daryl says. She laughs and turns back to the babies. He watches her watching them and chews on his lower lip. “Hey, I gotta tell you somethin’,” he says. 

 

“What is it?” Carol asks with a furrowed brow.

 

“I know that you worry, you know, about whether or not you’re gonna end up sick or whatever, and what’ll happen if you’re gone. And like, losin’ you would break my heart into a thousand pieces, don’t get me wrong, but I need you to know…” He wipes at his eyes as a lump forms in his throat again. Through a watery voice, he says, “I need you to know that when I was sittin’ there, holdin’ our babies, and thinkin’ that I might never see you again...there was not a single second where I thought that we wouldn’t be okay. It fucking  _ gutted _ me to think that they might never...you know, might never know their momma. But I knew we’d be okay, Carol, I knew I could take care of them, so you don’t ever gotta worry about that, alright? As long as I’m livin’ we’re gonna be just fine.” 

 

Tears stream down Carol’s face as well. She lets out a wet laugh and asks, “How the fuck do you wipe your face when you’re holding two babies?”

 

“No clue, I couldn’t figure it out neither,” Daryl says, laughing with her. 

 

They quiet down and sit in silence for a long while, just listening to the sounds of their children breathing in and out. 

 

“You know what I was thinkin’ about?” Daryl asks after a time.

 

“Hm?” 

 

“Remember that first day I met you, how I jumped your truck and then saw that you’d put a smiley face sticker on your check engine light?”

 

“Pfft, yeah. Why?”

 

“You did that ‘cause you didn’t want to know what was wrong, or if it was fixable, and it made sense to me, even though I thought it was real stupid of you to drive it like that. But like, what if we had done that? What if we had never bothered to check ‘cause we were too afraid of the answers?”

 

“You mean when we got them tested?” 

 

“Yeah. If we never had, we wouldn’t have kept ‘em, and they wouldn’t be here, and now that we have ‘em, that’s the worst thing I can think of.” He shrugs. “Maybe that don’t mean shit, but maybe, I dunno...Maybe it means it’s worth it to, you know, take the sticker off and check the damn engine sometimes.” 

 

“Maybe it does,” Carol says. “Doesn’t make it less scary, though.”

 

“Nah. But we’ve gotten a lot of good shit out of things that scared us.”

 

Carol hums, and Daryl doesn’t make her say anything else on the topic. 

 

“Merle needs to call so that we can tell him the kids’ names so we can tell other people. Your aunt’s already asked me like twice,” Daryl says. 

 

“I never told anyone else that we were considering Jesse and Josie.”

 

“Me neither.”

 

“So technically he was the first one to know. I think that counts.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Does that mean…?”

 

Carol snorts.

 

“Yes, you can text the guys.”

 

Daryl already has his phone out before she finishes her sentence.

 

—-

 

(1:31a) - _ you sent a photo _ -

 

(1:31a) -josie dixon 6lb 3oz 20in long born 2 rhiannon n jesse dixon 6lb 0oz 19 ½in long born 2 go your own way-

 

(1:32a) ~!!!!!!!!!~

 

(1:32a) >Oh my god, Daryl, they’re beautiful.<

 

(1:33a) -lmao were u guys just waiting by ur fones or smthn?-

 

(1:34a) ~yes.~

 

(1:34a) >Yes.<

 

(1:35a) ~how is everyone?~

 

(1:36a) -healthy. carol had a lil scare but its fine n i kinda wnt 2 not think abt it rn so i’ll tell u abt it l8r but no everyones real gud-

 

(1:37a) >Congratulations, brother.<

 

(1:38a) ~how’s being a dad?~

 

(1:39a) -rly wild tbh-

 

(1:39a) -like whn josie was born rite away i was like o fuk im screwed-

 

(1:40a) >What do you mean? Why were you screwed?<

 

(1:41a) -bc the sec i met her i was like theres no way im ever gonna luv anyone as much as i luv this lil girl n i still have a whole ass other kid comin n how am i gonna deal w/ luvin his sister more?-

 

(1:41a) -but then jesse was born n i was like o nvm i guess i can luv them both tht much even tho it doesnt seem possible-

 

(1:41a) -its so fukin weird like i barely known them but i wud do literally anything 4 them id kill or die or w/e 4 them in a heartbeat-

 

(1:42a) -im fukin dead exhausted but i dnt wna go 2 slp bc if i do thn i wont b able 2 look @ em-

 

(1:43a) >That is the sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.<

 

(1:43a) ~god right? i can’t wait to meet them.~

 

(1:44a) -yeah u gotta c them asap-

 

(1:45a) >We will.<

 

(1:46a) ~okay, but real talk, daryl, i need to ask the important question.~

 

(1:46a) ~what time were they born?~

 

(1:47a) -josie was born @ 11:53p-

 

(1:48a) >What about Jesse?<

 

(1:49a) -anyway im rly tired so mb i shud go 2 slp-

 

(1:50a) ~daryl.~

 

(1:50a) ~what time was jesse born?~

 

(1:51a) - :/ -

 

(1:51a) -12:03a-

 

(1:52a) ~!!!!!!!~

 

(1:52a) >Rofffllll<

 

(1:53a) >So not only do your twins have /different birthdays/ one of them also shares a birthday with Glenn. Incredible.<

 

(1:54a) -yeah yeah stfu-

 

(1:55a) ~such a great present, daryl, you shouldn’t have!~

 

(1:56a) -i rly shudnt-

 

(1:56a) -happy bday tho-

 

(1:57a) >Yeah, happy birthday Glenn.<

 

(1:58a) ~thank you. and daryl, tell jesse happy birthday from me.~

 

(1:58a) ~and belated birthday to josie.~

 

(1:59a) -will do-

 

(2:00a) >Congratulations, man.<

 

(2:01a) ~yeah, in all seriousness, we’re super happy for you.~

 

(2:02a) -thnx-

 

(2:02a) -im happy 4 me 2-

 

(2:03a) ~ _ dumbass changed the group name to “The Happiest Birthday Ever” _ ~

  
  
  


END PT. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi. get this fucking chapter away from me forever. i feel like i've been writing it for ten years.
> 
> anyway, sorry it's late. if you didn't see on my blog, i had a death in the family so i've been all over the place both mentally and location-wise, and also this is just a really long chapter and it took a while lmao. thnx for your patience.
> 
> wanna hear something ironic. completely without meaning to, my brother said to me today, "why is your check engine light on?" and i said, "everyone's check engine light is on, it's meaningless, don't worry about it." and then i proceeded to write that scene about how it's important not to ignore warning signs. 
> 
> A N Y W A Y
> 
> carol's aunt can't ever have a name bc at this point it's too late, but lemme tell you, it gets really annoying writing "carol's aunt" every time, so that's a literary decision i regret. 
> 
> sorry if i got excessive about birth things. it's kind of my thing. in between writing this i've been watching this docu-series about a british birth center just for like, fun. this one dude was drinking tea in the delivery room. it's /really/ british.
> 
> i'm legitimately just rambling at this point. it's 1 in the morning and i've been up since 7a, so.
> 
> i'll shut up. end of part one. part two starts sunday, barring any unforeseen circumstances.
> 
> love u all <3
> 
> later,
> 
> -diz
> 
> p.s. if any of you want to join the caryl discord chat, hmu for the link. we have fun over there talking about caryl, and sacrificing goats, and daryl's penis size. hope i'm selling it properly. lemme know!
> 
> k bye for real


	17. Homecoming

**Part Two: Take it to the Shop**

 

_September 7th_

_Wednesday_

 

The sound of several high pitched wails wakes Daryl with a start. He almost tumbles right off the edge of the foldable cot he's laying on, but he catches himself just before he falls onto the floor. He blinks several times, adjusting to the dim light in the room, and realizes at some point he fell asleep without even meaning to.

 

Over on the bed, Carol is propped up, holding one of the twins—he can't tell which at first glance—while a nurse helps guide her through another lesson on breastfeeding. Next to the bed is the other twin, out like a light in the little hospital bassinet. Daryl gets up and, stretching his stiff body, walks across the room to join them.

 

"Sorry," he whispers when Carol looks up at him. "Didn't mean to fall asleep." She smiles and rolls her eyes.

 

"You've been up for almost two whole days. I'm surprised you lasted as long as you did," she whispers back.

 

"How long was I out?"

 

"Only a couple hours. I got some sleep in, too. After you passed out the nurse from before took them to the nursery so I could rest."

 

Daryl doesn't like the idea of the kids being away from them, but the exhaustion etched in her face, which is surely mirrored on his own, makes him hold his tongue.

 

"Breakfast time now, though?" he asks instead, reaching over to brush his hand over the top of the nursing baby's head. Josie, he realizes.

 

"Does it count as breakfast if you eat twelve times a day?" Carol asks, rubbing Josie's back.

 

"You once wrapped bacon in a plain tortilla, dipped it in ranch, and called it dinner so I don't think it matters much."

 

Carol huffs a laugh.

 

"Yeah, I guess that's fair."

 

"How're you doin'?" Daryl asks then, playing absently with a lock of her mussed curls.

 

"Fine. Getting the hang of this, kind of. Doing better than that first time, I think."

 

"You're doing beautifully," the nurse says with a kind smile. She's a different nurse than the one they had before he fell asleep. He thinks he might have seen her for some time yesterday, but everything is such a blur he can't be sure.

 

"What do I do if they both wanna eat at the same time?" Carol asks, shifting around on the bed, doing her best not to jostle the baby.

 

"We can try tandem breastfeeding before you're discharged, if you'd like. See if it's something you want to do once you get home."

 

"You mean nurse them both at once?" Carol asks, raising her eyebrows.

 

"That'd be a neat party trick," Daryl says and Carol gives him a look.

 

"We'll give a try, but for now just focus on one at a time."

 

"It feels really weird," Carol tells Daryl. "Like, it's nice to be this close with them, but it's not what I was expecting."

 

"At least it's new to all three of you so you're all at the same starting place," Daryl says. From beside him Jesse starts to make small little fussy noises. "Can I pick him up?" Daryl asks, looking at his son with uncertainty.

 

"You don't need permission to hold your own baby," Carol says, laughing, but not unkindly.

 

"I know but I don't want to make him cry," Daryl mumbles. Jesse's fussing gets more urgent, and Daryl suspects he's about to start crying anyway, so he slips his hands underneath him and very carefully lifts him up into his arms.

 

"Hey there, little fella," Daryl whispers to Jesse as he adjusts him so his head is resting in the crook of his elbow. "G'morning."

 

Jesse has one tiny hand free from his swaddle. Daryl puts his index finger against Jesse's palm and smiles as the baby grips his finger automatically.

 

"Still hard to believe they're really here, huh?" Carol asks, while the nurse helps her switch Josie to the other side.

 

Daryl rocks Jesse gently, and his son blinks his eyes open, looking tired and confused.

 

"Absolutely wild," Daryl agrees, kissing Jesse's tiny knuckle.

 

"Most of my patients tell me that it really settles in that first night at home," the nurse says. "When you're on your own."

 

"Still got a couple days to prepare, right?" Daryl says optimistically. Carol snorts.

 

"I admire your positivity, babe, but I doubt we're gonna know what the hell we're doing until we've already done it. Maybe not even then."

 

"For what it's worth, that just sounds like typical parenting to me," the nurse says.

 

"Well," Daryl says with a shrug. "Don't matter one way or another, I s'pose. Ain't no goin' back now."

 

—-

 

_Josie and Jesse,_

 

_You're here._

 

_In all my letters I wrote to you before I said I would love you and I meant it, but there wasn't no way I could have predicted just how much I was gonna end up loving you cuz I never felt nothing like this before._

 

_Josie the second you was outta your momma and on her chest my breath was taken away and I stood there like a dummy for ages cuz I was so afraid that if I so much as blinked it would all be a dream. You are already so stubborn. You wouldn't even cry til we made you do it. Tell you what, you'll fit in real good with this family._

 

_And Jesse you came into the world ass backwards literally and I think it's fitting cuz I think you're gonna be a type of kid with tricks up his sleeve. You already surprised me by making me realize how much I can love two people at once. Also you waited until 3 minutes after midnight to be born so now you have a different birthday than your sister and you share it with your Uncle Glenn and I feel like you did that on purpose to mess with me._

 

_I've barely slept in days and I don't even care cuz when I'm awake it means I get to see you two. You're everything to me and everything I said to you in my other letters I still mean except now even more so cuz now I actually know you. Being your dad is the greatest ~~privelege~~ ~~privledge~~ ~~previlge~~ gift I'll ever have. Welcome to the world I am so happy to finally meet you. _

 

_Love,_

_Dad_

 

_P.S. You ain't allowed to disobey your momma literally ever cuz she went through hell to bring you into this world and you owe her for the rest of your life. You better treat her like a queen forever. She deserves it more than anyone I know. Your mom is a superhero. Don't ever forget that._

 

—-

 

_September 9th_

_Friday_

 

(9:24p) - _you sent a photo_ -

 

(9:27p) >Rofl, Jesse is always making such weird faces in the pictures you send.<

 

(9:28p) ~and then josie is always just :| ~

 

(9:29p) -ik, they alrdy r rly different from each other-

 

(9:30p) >How so?<

 

(9:31p) -josie only seems 2 cry whn she wnts smthn like food or a diaper change or w/e but then is chill 2 just hang out n her bed even if shes not slpn-

 

(9:31p) -jesse tho wnts 2 b held all the time n gets real sad if u put him down n hes still awake so half the time we gotta figure out if he actually needs smthn or just wnts 2 b cuddled-

 

(9:32p) ~aw you got a sensitive little boy.~

 

(9:32p) >And an idgaf little girl.<

 

(9:33p) -seems like it-

 

(9:33p) -i dnt mind tho i like holding them so whn josies tired of it i can always hold jesse-

 

(9:34p) ~how about you and carol? are you guys getting any sleep?~

 

(9:35p) -lol not rly-

 

(9:35p) -usually we only slp whn the kids r in the nursery so tht shud b interesting once we're home n dnt have tht-

 

(9:36p) >Are you still being discharged tomorrow?<

 

(9:37p) -mhm-

 

(9:37p) -doc said earlier tht bbies r real healthy n eating gud n tht carol hasnt had any more unusual bleeding so we're gud 2 go-

 

(9:38p) ~are you freaking out about it?~

 

(9:39p) -sure am-

 

(9:40p) >Rofl.<

 

(9:40p) >You guys will be fine.<

 

(9:41p) -ya xcept we're gna b all alone @ home w/ 2 helpless lil bbies tht we're in charge of keeping alive-

 

(9:41p) -i had 2 do a lot of work just 2 b allowed 2 legally ride a motorcycle y am i allowed 2 raise human beings w/ like no license or nthn?-

 

(9:42p) ~if my uppity hipster sister can raise a healthy, and even tolerable, child then so can you.~

 

(9:43p) -im just scared abt wut itll b like whn we dnt have nurses here 24/7 showing us how 2 do things-

 

(9:44p) ~there are always youtube how-to videos.~

 

(9:45p) >"How to clean baby bodily fluids off everything you own?"<

 

(9:46p) ~"how to get rem sleep in a ten minute power nap?"~

 

(9:47p) -real talk do u think they have how 2 vids on how 2 cut bb fingernails? cuz the nurse did it b4 but eventually theyre gna grow n theyre so small how do u not accidentally cut their whole fingertip off??-

 

(9:48p) ~i remember my oldest sister said that two of the most terrifying things after birth were her first postpartum shit and cutting her baby's nails.~

 

(9:48p) ~for the record, she survived both.~

 

(9:49p) >Sometimes I feel like we share too much information in the groupchat. Just sayin'.<

 

(9:49p) >Anyway, Daryl, Glenn and I wanted to ask if you would mind having company on Sunday.<

 

(9:50p) -?-

 

(9:51p) ~we were talking and figured out we’re both free on sunday, so i could come up and he could come down and we could meet your little ones.~

 

(9:52p) >Michonne wants to come, too.<

 

(9:52p) >But also if you guys need time to get into routine and stuff too, that's fine.<

 

(9:53p) -no thtd b super cool-

 

(9:53p) -i mean i'll run it by carol whn shes awake but i think she'd b cool w/ it esp if michonne comes-

 

(9:54p) ~sweet, well just let us know after you talk to her and we'll plan a time to be there.~

 

(9:55p) >We know you're excited to show your kids off. You've only sent us like 800 pictures.<

 

(9:56p) ~that's not a criticism, of course. i've saved every single one to my phone.~

 

(9:57p) >Oh for sure, keep em coming. I'm just saying that pics probably don't hold up in comparison to the real thing.<

 

(9:58p) -nah they dnt-

 

(9:58p) -itd b gr8 2 c u-

 

(9:58p) -i'll lyk asap-

 

(9:59p) ~hella.~

 

(10:00p) >Have a happy homecoming tomorrow.<

 

(10:01p) -thnx-

 

(10:01p) -we'll try-

 

—-

 

_September 10th_

_Saturday_

 

Daryl drives so far under the speed limit on his way home that a dude in an orange Prius manages to pass him, but he can’t be bothered to care. He’s not about to risk an accident—not when he’s carrying cargo as precious as this, he thinks, glancing in the rearview mirror at the infant car seats rear-facing away from him.

 

“It doesn’t feel like they should be allowed outside,” Carol says. She keeps turning around in her seat to adjust a blanket or check that everything’s still secure. “They’re too little for the big kid world.”

 

“Right?” Daryl says. Carrying them through the hospital’s front doors had been almost an out-of-body experience, and he kept waiting for someone to come stop him and ask him what the hell he thought he was doing. As it turns out, however, the twins are truly theirs, and they’re going home with them, no matter how much it feels like there should be a catch.

 

Daryl pulls into their drive and brakes gently, throwing the car in park and pausing with uncertainty.

 

“We’re home,” Carol says, her face just as hesitant.

 

“ _We’re_ home,” Daryl emphasizes, and she nods.

 

“Yeah.”

 

They both turn to look at the car seats in the back. From his angle, Daryl can see Josie gnawing on her fist, and he can hear Jesse start to make little baby whines, which Daryl’s come to learn means he is going to want to be in someone’s arms soon or else. He glances at Carol.

 

“Can’t sit out here forever,” he says.

 

“Can’t we?” she asks, and Daryl smiles.

 

“C’mon,” he says, squeezing her knee. He gets out of the car and opens the backseat door where Jesse is blinking himself awake. Daryl undoes all the secures and lifts the car seat out, while Carol does the same with Josie on the other side. “Here, let me,” Daryl says, going over to them and holding out his free hand.

 

“I can carry her,” Carol says, frowning.

 

“I know you can, but you’re still sore. You get the bags, they’re lighter.”

 

“You know you’re gonna have to go back to work eventually and I’m gonna have to carry them around by myself,” she says with a fond eye roll, handing Josie over and grabbing their things from the trunk.

 

“More reason to make use of me now,” Daryl argues, nodding at her to go ahead and he follows her to the stoop.

 

Carol unlocks the door and pushes it open. From the kitchen they can hear the rattling of Henry’s crate as he waggles around excitedly at the sound of their arrival. The living room has a balloon bouquet sitting on the coffee table. It’s got several normal-sized balloons in alternating pink and blue, with two larger balloons, one that says, “IT’S A GIRL!” and the other that says, “IT’S A BOY!”

 

“Looks like my aunt left us a present when she came to check on Henry,” Carol says with a snort.

 

“That was nice of her,” says Daryl, sitting the twins down on the ground.

 

“Very nice. Let’s hope she keeps this level of nice without going overboard and suffocating me by coming over every five seconds.”

 

“I’ll consider myself still on interference duty,” Daryl promises. He stares down at the babies. “Hey, Carol?”

 

“Hm?” she asks, coming up beside him.

 

“What do we do now?”

 

Josie is in a little, purple swaddle that she’s wiggled her arms free from, and a few wisps of her light brown is hair poking out from underneath her hat. She’s got one hand gripping the edge of her blanket, and the other one is curled up into a fist.

 

Jesse has his face all scrunched up, trying to decide if he wants to cry or not. His hands are still tucked securely away, but he’s squirming around like a little worm, and he’s wiggled himself out of his hat completely. He’s got lighter hair than his sister, and it’s sticking up every which way.

 

“I mean, I guess we take them out of their car seats and then, like, raise them to adulthood?”

 

“Cool,” Daryl says. “Cool cool cool.”

 

The two of them look at each other for a beat and crack up laughing.

 

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” Carol says, covering her face with her hands.

 

“Me neither,” Daryl says, wrapping his arm around Carol’s shoulder and pulling her to him. He kisses her temple. “Maybe we should introduce them to Henry?”

 

Carol seems to consider this.

 

“How do we go about that, exactly? I don’t want him jumping all over them.”

 

Daryl chews his lower lip and thinks. He leans down and unbuckles Jesse, scooping him up into his arms carefully, not quite a pro at getting the babies in and out of the car seats quite yet.

 

“Here, sit on the couch,” he tells Carol. She does and he gives her Jesse before going over and doing the same with Josie. Daryl then opens up one of their bags and pulls out a blanket they’ve been using for burping both of the twins that hasn’t been washed yet.

 

“What are you gonna do?” Carol asks.

 

“I’m gonna take this to him and let him sniff it for a minute; let him get used to the smell. Then I’ll put a leash on him and let him come over and meet them at a distance before I put him outside. Baby steps.”

 

“Okay,” Carol agrees, scooting back to make herself comfortable, balancing a baby in both arms.

 

Daryl bunches the blanket in his hand and goes into the kitchen where Henry lights up at the sight of him. Daryl’s only been by the house a couple times to grab a change of clothes or a specific request from Carol, and the poor dog isn’t used to being without them for such long periods of time. His whole body waggles back and forth, his strong tail twapping against the metal of the crate.

 

“Hey boy," Daryl says, squatting down in front of the crate. He holds the blanket out and presses it against the front bars where Henry can get a good whiff of it. Henry sticks his muzzle into it and sniffs it with interest. “We got some new people in the house now that we’re gonna need your help takin’ care of. Think you can do that?”

 

In response, Henry simply keeps sniffing the blanket, like he can’t make heads or tails over it. Daryl lets him have his time with it, until eventually standing up and grabbing Henry’s leash off the hook on the wall. Henry practically combusts at the sight of it.

 

It’s an arduous task getting the leash clasped onto Henry’s collar without getting attacked by the excited dog, who is trying with gusto to lick Daryl’s face.

 

“‘Kay, you gotta be real polite now, you hear me? They’re real small so you can’t go jumpin’ all over ‘em. And your momma, too, she still ain’t at 100%. Best behavior, alright?”

 

Henry drools on the floor, a dopey grin on his face.

 

Daryl loops the leash several times around his wrist and leads an impatient dog out into the living room. At the sound of their approach, Carol looks over her shoulder and beams.

 

“Hey boy,” she says quietly, careful not to startle the little ones in her arms. “I missed you.”

 

Henry whines when Daryl doesn’t let him run full speed at Carol, tugging on his leash so hard his front legs flail around in the air.

 

“Chill out. I said best behavior, remember?” Daryl says, taking him over to the couch. He lets Henry get as far as the coffee table before he stops him. Henry sniffs Carol’s knee, and then starts sniffing the air. Something catches his interest, and Daryl can see the exact moment Henry realizes Carol’s not on the couch alone. He tugs hard on the leash, sniffing so loud it’s audible, trying to get a good look at the babies.

 

“This is your little brother and sister,” Carol tells the dog, adjusting the twins so Henry can see them better. Henry whines again.

 

“That’s close enough for now,” Daryl says to Henry, practically having to lug him away. “You’ll have plenty of time to get to know them. C’mon, let’s go outside.” He continues to tug a reluctant Henry towards the door. They pause at the abandoned car seats, which Henry starts to examine. Just then, Jesse starts fussing, and Henry immediately stands at attention, ears pricked up and forward.

 

“Shh, shh, little one,” Carol murmurs to Jesse, who continues to fuss. Henry lets out a tiny “boof” sound, watching Carol and the twins intently.

 

“It’s just the baby,” Daryl says, just as Jesse’s fussing turns into actual cries. Henry tries to lunge at the couch, digging the leash into Daryl’s wrist, whining louder than he has thus far. Not risking it, Daryl forces the dog outside and hooks him up to his chain. Through the closed door they can hear muffled cries, and Henry looks wildly from the door to Daryl and back again, as if trying to figure out a way to get back in. Daryl gives him a few apology pats, and goes back inside, leaving him out there, distraught and barking.

 

“Is he freaking out because he wants to help the baby or eat him?” Carol asks, glancing up at Daryl as he comes back inside. She’s multitasking impressively, juggling Jesse in one arm, with Josie balanced on her lap, while she pulls open her nursing shirt and unsnaps her nursing bra.

 

“Hopefully the first one,” Daryl says, coming over to snatch Josie from her to make things a little easier. “Either way he’ll get used to them, we’ll just have to give him time.”

 

“I know, I just feel bad. At least we knew we were upending our whole lives. He didn’t,” Carol says, getting Jesse to latch at her breast much more confidently than she had just a few days prior.

 

In his arms, Josie squints like she’s not sure if she wants to cry or not. Daryl waits patiently for her to figure it out. She isn’t shy about letting them know when she needs something, but she never seems to cry wolf. Which is why when she does start wailing, Carol immediately asks,

 

“Diaper or hungry?”

 

Daryl checks her diaper, and says, “Hungry. Wanna try that tandem thing they showed us?”

 

“I’ll try,” Carol says hesitantly.

 

Daryl sits down beside her on the couch and the two of them work together to maneuver the twins like jigsaw puzzle pieces until Carol has a baby at either breast. Carol raises an eyebrow at him and goes, “huh,” like she didn’t think she was going to be able to do it.

 

“Superwoman,” Daryl says, leaning back against the couch cushion.

 

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Carol says, smirking.

 

Daryl watches her nurse their twins, dark shadows under her eyes, and her hair unwashed and pinned back. Her stomach has rolls and folds when she sits down, the elastic of her skin hanging loose now with no babies to hold.

 

“I would,” he says.

 

—-

 

Around ten at night, after a lot of teamwork, Daryl and Carol get both twins to sleep at the same time in their bassinets beside the bed. Carol is resting her head on Daryl’s chest, eyes closed but still awake, as Daryl rubs her back.

 

“Know what’s stupid?” Carol whispers, voice heavy with exhaustion.

 

“Hm?” Daryl hums.

 

“We spent all day trying our hardest to just get them both to go the fuck to sleep at once so we could try and nap, and now that they actually are asleep, I miss them.”

 

Daryl huffs a laugh.

 

“Glad you feel it, too,” he whispers. “I thought I was losin’ my mind.”

 

“I mean, I don’t think either of us has slept more than two hours at a time for days now, so I wouldn’t rule it out.”

 

“Mm, guess so long as we’re both crazy it don’t matter much.”

 

Carol gives a tiny laugh, and the two of them fall silent. The house is blissfully quiet—no one crying, no dogs barking—just the normal creaks and snaps of the night. Daryl is almost past the peak between dozing and sleeping, when he hears Carol make a noise that sounds a lot like a muffled sob, and it brings him back over instantly.

 

“Hey,” he whispers, squeezing her shoulder. “Are you cryin’?”

 

“Yeah,” she mutters. “But don’t worry about it. Go to sleep.”

 

Daryl frowns.

 

“No, what’s the matter, sweetheart?”

 

She shakes her head against his chest.

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Somethin’.”

 

“Nothing important, I mean. Sitting here in the quiet, I think everything just sort of hit me at once. Like the nurse said, you know? About it sinking in once you get home? I just got overwhelmed all of a sudden, and my hormones are all the fuck over the place. I promise I’m okay. It’s no different than when I cried at my toast getting burnt while I was pregnant. Just dumb hormonal shit.”

 

“It ain’t dumb to be overwhelmed, baby,” Daryl says. “I mean, everything’s real overwhelming right now.”

 

“I know.”

 

“It’s just ‘cause it’s new, though. We’ll get into a routine, and they ain’t gonna be up every two seconds forever.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Do you?”

 

“I do. I promise I’m okay. Now get some sleep. You need it.”

 

“You need it more.”

 

“Then we’ll both sleep.”

 

“Alright.” He brushes a hand over her cheek and says, “We survived our first day.”

 

“Mhm,” Carol mutters, so quietly Daryl almost can’t hear her. “Just a lifetime to go.”

 

—-

 

_September 11th_

_Sunday_

 

“Hi, we’re not here to see you, where are out babies?” Glenn says, crossing his arms, Michonne and Rick grinning wide behind him.

 

Daryl snorts, standing at the open door.

 

“Hi to you, too,” he says.

 

“Hey, Daryl,” says Rick.

 

“Good to see you,” says Michonne.

 

“Yeah, yeah, enough pleasantries,” Glenn says dismissively. He claps his hands and says, “Where?! Are?! The?! Babies?!”

 

Rolling his eyes, Daryl steps aside to let his friends in. Carol is on the couch holding both twins, and he casts her a long-suffering look that makes her poorly suppress a grin.

 

“Hey guys,” she says to their visitors. She’s wearing a robe, her hair is technically brushed, and her feet are propped up on the coffee table. “I would have dressed up for you, but frankly, unless you’re the Queen of England, I don’t really give a shit. Maybe not even then. I’m not British, so what do I care?”

 

“Given all the details you’ve texted me, I doubt modesty is at the top of your list of priorities right now,” Michonne says, peering over conspicuously, trying to get a glimpse of the twins.

 

“Pretty much. Once you’ve had several strangers watch a doctor shove her hand up your vagina, wearing your pajamas during the daytime seems like nothing,” Carol says, and laughs when they all give the appropriate wince of sympathy. “But okay, I know you’re barely paying attention to me. Want some introductions?”

 

“Dibs,” Glenn says, as Daryl goes over and picks up the twin nearest to him. Daryl smiles and hands the baby over to him. Glenn takes him with ease, arguably the most seasoned of the bunch when it comes to babies. More so than even Carol and Daryl themselves, which is humbling, to say the least.

 

“That one’s—” Daryl starts, but Glenn interrupts, saying,

 

“Jesse. I know. You send us fifty pictures a day, do you think I don’t know their faces by now?” he asks, propping Jesse up in the crook of his elbow and regarding him. “Hey birthday twin,” he says softly. “You and me, we’re gonna share a cake every year, sound good?”

 

“Four minutes,” Daryl mutters at Carol. “You couldn’t have had him four minutes earlier?”

 

“Honey, shove a watermelon up your ass and tell me if you care what time it is while you’re doing it,” she says sweetly, and Daryl snorts.

 

“Okay, stop flirting you two, and let me see that little girl,” Michonne says, holding her hands out and beckoning at Daryl for him to hand Josie over. He scoops her up from Carol and passes her over. Michonne takes one look at her and immediately goes, “awww,” and looks up at the two of them with her lower lip out. “Guys, she’s precious,” she says, turning her gaze back to the baby. “And she looks like you, Daryl. Although I can see Carol here, too, it’s just subtle.”

 

“Most of Carol went to this one,” Glenn says, rocking Jesse. He notices Rick’s empty hands and says, “There are three of us, but only two of them. You guys need one more.”

 

“No,” Carol and Daryl say at the same time, making their friends laugh. Glenn holds up one hand in surrender.

 

“My bad, I won’t suggest it again.”

 

“Here, Rick, you can hold Josie while I go check on my bestie,” Michonne says, helping an awkward Rick take hold of the baby girl. “Since I think Glenn might be hogging Jesse for a bit. I think Josie should be offended that he’s playing favorites already.”

 

“Josie, don’t listen to her,” Glenn says over his shoulder to where Rick is standing stiffly with her like he’s not quite sure what he’s supposed to be doing. “I love you both equally, but Jesse gets an extra minute here while I congratulate him on annoying the shit out of his dad from moment one.”

 

“I hate you,” Daryl says to Glenn, who makes a kissy face in response.

 

“Hey babe,” Michonne says, plopping down on the couch beside Carol. “You look like you’ve slept about thirty minutes this whole week.”

 

“Don’t exaggerate,” Carol says. “It’s been at least an hour.” Michonne grins, and then nudges her shoulder with hers.

 

“How you doin’, though? Really?”

 

“I’m okay,” Carol says. “I’m super tired and my crotch looks like ground beef, but I got some beautiful babies out of all the craziness, so it evens out.”

 

“They really are beautiful, Carol,” Rick says then, relaxing a little bit after Josie manages not to do anything too alarming. He holds his finger out to her and she instinctively wraps her hand around it, and Rick beams at Daryl, who nods in understanding.

 

“I love it when they do that,” he says.

 

“Okay, let’s swap,” Glenn says. “Let me meet our little girl.”

 

“Uh, how do we do that?” Rick says, looking from Josie to Jesse.

 

“We still haven’t mastered transferring them back and forth between us,” Carol says sympathetically.

 

“Here, give me Jesse and you take Josie,” Michonne says, reaching up and letting Glenn hand her Jesse.

 

“This feels like some complicated ball tossing game,” Rick says, passing Josie to Glenn.

 

“Please don’t toss my kids,” Daryl says.

 

“I promise I won’t throw any babies,” Rick says.

 

“I’ll let you share your brother’s and my birthday cake, even though you had to be stubborn and come out on the wrong day,” Glenn says to Josie. “That’s okay, though, you wanted to be an individual. Good. You’ll grow up to be a strong confident woman who doesn’t care about societal expectations.” He looks up at Daryl and says, “I officially joined the feminist club, and I’m taking a women’s studies course.”

 

“You know you’re eventually going to have to declare a major, right?” Rick says, coming up behind the couch to check out Jesse over Michonne’s shoulder.

 

“I’m kind of hoping that I’ll just take enough random classes that eventually I’ll just end up with a major in something,” says Glenn.

 

“A college tuition well-spent,” Michonne says. “When do you have to go back to work, Carol?”

 

“Not until October,” she says. “And Daryl’s boss gave him a paternity leave. It’s not as long as my leave, but most dads don’t get one at all. Dale is a godsend.”

 

“He is,” Daryl agrees with a nod. “Wish I could stay and help you the whole time, though.”

 

“Yeah well,” Carol says quietly with a shrug. “I’ll manage.”

 

“Who’s watching the kids when you guys go back to work?” asks Glenn.

 

“My aunt,” Carol says with a grimace. “She’s great, and we’d be kind of shit out of luck without her, but she can be...I dunno. A lot.”

 

“Maggie’s sister would probably babysit for you here and there if you need it. She loves kids.”

 

“You remember Beth, right Daryl? Your prom date?” Rick says with a grin.

 

“Shut up,” Daryl says with an eye roll.

 

“Hey, if we hadn’t convinced you to take her to prom you wouldn’t have snuck off and made out with Carol, and then were would we be?” Glenn says, then to Josie, adds, “Your parents made my senior year of high school a living hell.”

 

“You make my every day a living hell,” Daryl mutters. “Here, give me my daughter, I miss her.”

 

Daryl gives the finger to everyone as they give him an, “awww,” in unison. He takes Josie and kisses her forehead.

 

“Sorry these are the people you’re stuck with as family,” Daryl tells her, bouncing her gently. “They’re the best we could scrounge up.”

 

“Don’t listen to your dad, we’re awesome,” Michonne tells Jesse, who accidentally hits himself in the face with his hand in response.

 

“Especially because we can make you guys food and watch the babies for the afternoon while you nap,” Glenn adds.

 

Daryl looks to Carol, who shrugs.

 

“Sounds pretty awesome to me,” she says.

 

—-

 

_September 13th_

_Tuesday_

 

“You no-call no-showed to your appointment last week,” Jamie the front desk assistant at the therapist’s office says, looking at Daryl with her usual disdain.

 

“Yeah, sorry about that, my girlfriend was in labor,” Daryl says. Without thinking he pulls out his phone and shows her his background picture of the twins. Jamie looks at the picture and then back up at Daryl, her face softening, but in a way that makes it seem like she’s angry about it.

 

“Congratulations,” she says, almost sincerely. She hands him his paperwork, and asks, “Does your newfound responsibility make you more likely to fill out your forms?”

 

In response, Daryl takes the clipboard and gives her a tight smile, and Jamie’s expression is back to disdain before he’s fully turned away.

 

In the waiting room, Daryl is greeted by a tiny person running at him and grabbing him by the legs. He laughs as he steadies himself, and pats Ryan on the head.

 

“Hey bud,” he says, and Ryan beams up at him, taking him by the hand and leading him over to where he and Soccer Mom are sitting. He picks up a toy that looks like it’s merchandise from some children’s show he thinks he’s seen marketed in stores here and there, and he is briefly horrified to realize he will probably be familiar with all sorts of children’s programs once the twins get old enough to understand TV.

 

“Ryan was sad you were gone last week,” Soccer Mom says as Ryan hands Daryl his toy. “He wanted to show you that.”

 

“It’s super neat, kid,” Daryl tells Ryan, holding the toy he has no strong feelings about one way or the other.

 

“Everything okay at home?” Soccer Mom asks, and Daryl can’t help the smile that forms on his lips as he pulls out his phone a second time and shows Soccer Mom the picture.

 

“Oh my goodness,” she says, putting a hand to her heart. “How precious. They were born last week?”

 

“Mhm. Tuesday night. Or, well, my daughter was born Tuesday night, but my son was born after midnight so technically he was born on Wednesday,” Daryl explains, pocketing his phone.

 

“They have different birthdays? How funny is that? Well congratulations. Is everyone healthy? How’s your girlfriend?”

 

“She’s good. Stressed and tired, but we’re gettin’ into a routine. I’m ready for this appointment to be done so I can go home and make sure she’s alright. It’s just a little rough at the beginning. Well, I guess you already know that, huh?” He nods at Ryan, and Soccer Mom gives him a tight smile.

 

“I guess I do,” she says.

 

“Daryl?” says Dr. Peterson in the doorway. Daryl gives Ryan back his toy and rustles his hair before going to stand, leaving his abandoned paperwork behind.

 

“Congratulations again,” Soccer Mom says, and Daryl nods a thanks at her.

 

“Congratulations?” Dr. Peterson asks once they’re walking down the hall.

 

“Mhm,” Daryl says, grinning that same proud grin he can’t seem to wipe off his face. Dr. Peterson looks at him knowingly, but lets him into her office first before she says anything else.

 

Daryl immediately sits on the edge of his chair, pulls out his phone, and opens his photo album. He motions for Dr. Peterson to come over, and she does.

 

“Well well, would you look at that?” she says with a smile. “I thought it was unlike you to play hooky.”

 

“Yeah, sorry, Carol was in labor all of Tuesday and I totally forgot. Look, here’s them the other day when they both fell asleep on my chest. Oh, and this is after we gave ‘em their first bath at home. And this one—oh wait, sorry, that one’s my dog.”

 

Dr. Peterson—a woman with the patience of a saint—sits through Daryl’s slideshow and engages the whole time. After he’s gone through all the pictures, it occurs to Daryl that he’s been waiting to have someone to gush to. He has the groupchat, sure, but he hasn’t been at work, and aside from a single visit on Sunday, he hasn’t had anyone other than Carol’s aunt come by. Even Merle hasn’t called yet, even though he’s supposed to be calling regularly since Daryl can’t call him.

 

Suddenly showing off all the pictures of his kids feels very lonely. He furrows his brow and crosses his arms, his gaze falling to the floor.

 

“Hey now,” Dr. Peterson says, taking her spot. “Where’d you go just now? You were about to pull out the party poppers here two seconds ago.”

 

“Nothin’,” Daryl says, shaking his head. “Or nothin’ I feel like talkin’ about right now.” He clears his throat and forces himself to look up at her. He tries his best to give her a decent smile, and though he’s sure she sees through it, she returns it all the same.

 

“So obviously you’ve been busy this past week, then?” Dr. Peterson says.

 

“Pfft, yeah. I was gonna call and cancel this week, too, but Carol insisted. If her aunt hadn’t been over to help I wouldn’t have gone. Don’t think she’s ready to be all by herself yet.”

 

“Mm, why do you say that?”

 

“I don’t mean nothin’ against her,” Daryl says quickly. “I pro’ly ain’t ready for that neither, but she’s just been havin’ trouble adjustin’ I think. She barely gets any sleep. Neither of us do, but she’s the one who’s gotta feed ‘em. All I can do is change diapers and hand ‘em off.”

 

“I imagine it’s quite the juggling act.”

 

“Yeah. We’re gettin’ better at gettin’ them to sleep at the same time, though, so that’s good. Hopefully they’re napping now so Carol can get some sleep ‘til I get home.” He grimaces. “I ain’t lookin’ forward to goin’ back to work in a couple weeks. I wanna be there for her.”

 

“I can tell,” Dr. Peterson says. “Seems like you’re having a hard time being away from her at all.”

 

“Just ‘cause everything’s new. I just don’t like bein’ away, ‘cause how do I know she’s okay if I ain’t there.”

 

“Why just her?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“You keep saying you’re worried about her, but not about the twins.”

 

“‘Course I’m worried about them, too, but I dunno, I know they’re fine.”

 

“But you don’t know if Carol’s fine?” Dr. Peterson asks, brow furrowed. “Sorry. I’m not trying to interrogate you. It’s probably just that I’ve never seen you in dad mode before. You’re very protective.”

 

“Yeah, I guess,” Daryl says. “Did I say somethin’ weird?”

 

Dr. Peterson twists her mouth.

 

“Objectively? No. Just…” She looks like she’s searching for the words. “Remember how you developed obsessive behaviors when you were having those nightmares?” she asks.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Maybe I’m reading you completely wrong, but when you talk about Carol you’ve got that same...fear? I guess.” She shakes her head. “Forgive me. You and I tend to have a pretty easy rapport, but I feel like I’m missing something. Did something else happen? The birth went okay?”

 

“Yeah, it was fine,” Daryl says. “Josie was born first, then Jesse was breech but ended up coming out okay, and there was like a little bit of time there in the middle where Carol hemorrhaged and I had to leave the room and I wasn’t sure if she was alive or not, but she got all fixed up and she’s healing fine so all in all it was good.”

 

“Ah,” Dr. Peterson says. “There’s that buried lede.”

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing. You said Carol hemorrhaged?”

 

“Yeah. But she’s fine.”

 

“But you didn’t know that during it?”

 

“No, how could I of?”

 

“And you weren’t in the room?”

 

“No, they made me leave.”

 

“Did they have to fight you to leave?”

 

“A little. I told Carol I wouldn’t leave her side no matter what.”

 

“But they made you.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“And while you were away from her there was the possibility that she could have died.”

 

“Yeah. Is there a point to this, ‘cause I don’t really wanna think about it. I’ve kinda just tried to forget it.”

 

“You and Carol haven’t talked about it?”

 

“Only like right afterwards. It’s over. What’s the point of bringin’ it back up?”

 

Dr. Peterson nods, leaning back in her chair, a satisfied look on her face.

 

“Thank you,” she says.

 

“For what?”

 

“Putting that together for me. It was bothering me that I couldn’t figure it out.”

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

 

“I know. But that’s okay. We’ll get there.”

 

Daryl gives her a bemused frown.

 

“Can we stop talkin’ in circles and do somethin’ important, ‘cause if I gotta leave Carol I want it to be for a good reason.”

 

Dr. Peterson gives him a kind smile.

 

“Exactly,” she says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was hard to get through, partially because it was hard going from that huge climax to this kind of abrupt tonal shift, and partially because i have been putting a topical cream on a bug bite i'm having allergic reaction to, only to realize much later that it has medicine that makes you drowsy in it, which explains a lot.
> 
> that's all to say, i feel like this chapter is sloppy, and is more like a springboard for what's to come. hopefully cute baby moments make up for some of the dull set up stuff. i also edited it while semi-high on benadryl, so i might fine-tooth comb this again later, but please forgive any truly stupid typos. 
> 
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯?
> 
> luv u, c u thursday,
> 
> -diz


	18. Tummy Time

_ J&J, _

 

_ I didn't know it was possible to love someone to the moon and back and wanna throttle them at the same time. I know you ain't got any other way to communicate, but you best make this up to us once you're grown. Seems like every time we get one of you settled the other one goes off. I think y'all are plotting tryna get your mom and dad to go off the deep end, and lemme tell you, it's working. _

 

_ Josie, you only ever cry if you need something important, which is helpful cuz it doesn't take a lotta guess work. The problem though is that when you want something you want it NOW. You don't got no patience for anything and I had no idea such a tiny thing could be so goddamn loud. _

 

_ Jesse, you don't scream nearly as loud, and you're willing to wait for things, except it's harder to figure out what the heck you want cuz sometimes you're crying cuz you're hungry or wet, and sometimes you just don't like how your blanket is laying on you, so you're kinda always fussing about something. _

 

_ But then there's the other stuff. _

 

_ Josie, you like to watch everything. You're always looking at things and I can tell your little brain is working hard soaking in all the new stuff. You especially love watching the dog. And the dog loves watching you right back. We was scared he wouldn't like you two, but I think he thinks you two are his babies instead of ours, and he loves you both, but there's something about you and him, Josie. It's hard to get your eyes off him. I think you two might be best friends. _

 

_ And Jesse, you're sweet as sugar. Your sister will let me hold her but she's not a cuddler like you are. You and I can chill for hours just curled up on the couch. You love love love being held and talked to. I chat with you about nothing at all and you listen like I'm telling you the best story ever written. You're also a big dork. You make silly faces and silly noises and are just really funny. It's prolly cuz you and Glenn share a birthday. He rubbed off on you. Sorry. _

 

_ You guys exhaust me so much, and I wouldn't change a day. Parenthood is strange. _

 

_ Love you even when you're driving me crazy, _

_ Dad _

 

—-

 

_ September 18th _

_ Sunday _

 

Daryl is sitting on the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table. Jesse is dozing in and out in the crook of Daryl's arm, and Josie is next to them on the ground in her infant bouncer, wide awake but content to just observe. Daryl's half-watching a Lifetime movie, too sleepy to pay full attention, while he plays absently with Jesse's tiny hand. Henry is about a foot away from them, keeping a watchful eye on the babies, and Carol is napping in the bedroom. The house is calm for once.

 

So it's fitting that when Daryl's phone begins to vibrate next to him on the couch cushion, the caller ID shows the last person Daryl feels up to talking to right now.

 

Still, he swipes up to answer and waits as the automated voice on the other end says, " _ A county inmate is attempting to contact you. Press one to accept the charges. _ "

 

He does and then he waits.

 

And waits.

 

And finally says, "Hello?"

 

"Hey," says Merle's voice on the other end of the line. He doesn't sound sick like he did when he was detoxing, and he doesn't sound peppy like his most recent calls. He sounds sheepish.

 

"Hey," Daryl says back. He hasn't heard from Merle for weeks, and Daryl's been too preoccupied to visit or write. "Been a minute."

 

"Yeah it has...They here?"

 

Daryl glances down at Jesse, whose pacifier has slipped out of his mouth as he's gone slack with sleep. He smiles to himself and says softly, "Yeah. They're here."

 

"They healthy?"

 

"Real healthy. Got to come home after three days, and been doin' good ever since."

 

"... I'm guessin' I'm too late to be the first to know their names."

 

"Actually, we went with Jesse and Josie, and you was the only who knew those were on the list, so technically you was still first."

 

"Jesse and Josie, huh? Love it."

 

"Thanks."

 

There's a heavy, awkward silence that Daryl lets linger. Finally, Merle clears his throat.

 

"I ain't been usin'. I know that's what you're thinkin', but I ain't."

 

"Why'd you go AWOL, then?" Daryl hates that he can't keep the hurt out of his voice.

 

"I dunno, man, 'cause I was strugglin'. Shit ain't easy, you know? And I didn't want you and your girl seein' me like that."

 

"Like what?"

 

"...Weak, I guess? Like a pussy who has to sit and debate every night if he wants his family or the dope. That kind of bullshit."

 

"We wouldn't of judged you, Merle," Daryl says quietly.

 

"Maybe, but I didn't want your pity."

 

"Wouldn't of done that neither."

 

"Maybe. But hey, listen, I'm callin' you now, alright? And I still wanna be in their lives. So I'm doin' what I gotta do. Oh, and get this."

 

"What?"

 

"I'm gettin' out on probation November 7th."

 

"No shit?"

 

"Yup. Checkin' out to that halfway house up north of the pen, and I'll be on mandatory, random UAs for a year. That enough for your standards?"

 

"It's definitely a start." Daryl chews his lower lip, and adds, "I'll be, uh, glad to have you out, or whatever."

 

"Yeah, it'll be good. Maybe we can...I don't even know. Do some regular family supper bullshit me and you ain't got a clue on how to do."

 

"Yeah, maybe."

 

"Can I...you gonna let me meet the kids anytime soon?"

 

"I dunno about bringin' them to the jail, at least not yet. They ain't even two weeks old, don't want them catchin' nothin', but like...I dunno, once me and Carol talk it over and they seem like they can handle it, maybe we'll bring 'em up to see you."

 

"I'd like that."

 

"And maybe I can, you know, mail you some pictures. If you want 'em, I mean."

 

"Yeah, no, that'd be...yeah. Do that."

 

"Alright."

 

Next to him in her bouncer, Josie decides she's in desperate need of something and makes her usual loud and sudden demands. At least when Jesse wants something he gives warning fusses.

 

"Sounds like someone's throwin' a fit over there," Merle says, and Daryl can hear the smile in his voice.

 

"That's Josie. She's got a set of lungs on her," Daryl explains, holding his phone between his ear and shoulder, and sitting Jesse down to reach for Josie. In response, Jesse starts crying.

 

"Damn, go throw those kids on the tit before they wake the neighborhood," Merle jokes, and Daryl snorts.

 

"This ain't nothin', man. You should hear how wild it gets in here sometimes. Hey now, Jojo, calm down and lemme figure out what you want. JJ, sweetheart, you ain't dyin' just 'cause no one's holding you, chill out."

 

"Think I better let you go, baby brother. You got some lil ones who need you more than me."

 

"'Kay, well, call again sometime, if you want. I'll talk to Carol about visiting."

 

"Alright. You tell that girl I said hey and congratulations."

 

"I will."

 

"Right, well. Love you, baby brother."

 

Daryl is completely thrown off guard. He can't think of a single time Merle has said that to him.

 

"Uh, yeah," he mutters. "You, too."

 

Merle doesn't stick around for a full blown love fest. He mumbles a goodbye and hangs up the phone. Daryl tosses his cell onto the coffee table and shakes his head at Josie, who he has laying down next to Jesse while he changes her diaper.

 

"That was weird," he tells her, and to Jesse, he says, "Your uncle confuses the hell outta me."

 

In response, Josie accidentally kicks her foot into her soiled diaper, and Jesse's lower lip pouts out as he starts to wail, heartbroken that he's not being cuddled.

 

"You know what," Daryl says, wiping baby shit off a tiny foot without blinking an eye. "Y'all are weird, too. Guess it's a family thing."

 

He finishes up and kisses them both on the forehead. 

 

Weird, he supposes, isn't synonymous with bad.

 

—-

 

_ October 1st _

_ Saturday _

 

(2:03p) ~i'm supposed to be writing a ten page paper on the differences between the three feminist movements, but if I stare at this google doc anymore i'm gonna go blind.~

 

(2:03p) ~what are you guys up to?~

 

(2:06p) >Laying around in Michonne's dorm room while she works on her art project for class. Hbu, Daryl?<

 

(2:07p) - _ you sent a photo _ -

 

(2:07p) -tummy time-

 

(2:08p) ~that angle suggests you are also on your tummy.~

 

(2:08p) ~don't you already have pretty good control over your abdominal muscles?~

 

(2:09p) -we're doin it 2gether-

 

(2:09p) >Where's your sense of solidarity, Glenn?<

 

(2:10p) ~my bad. i guess you're never too old for some quality tummy time.~

 

(2:11p) -tell tht 2 jojo-

 

(2:11p) -she fukin hates it-

 

(2:11p) -jj kinda just seems confused abt it but jojo screams bloody murder jfc-

 

(2:12p) >Yeah, she doesn't exactly look thrilled in that picture.<

 

(2:13p) -i think shes just mad im making her do smthn shes not gud @-

 

(2:13p) -like she doesnt get the point n just thinks im making her uncomfy 4 no reason-

 

(2:14p) ~make henry sit with her.~

 

(2:15p) -... thts actually a rly gud idea hold on-

 

(2:17p) - _ you sent a photo _ -

 

(2:18p) ~oh my god that's adorable.~

 

(2:18p) >Did you tell him to sit like that?<

 

(2:19p) -no i let him inside n he heard her crying n he just went n laid down nose 2 nose w/ her-

 

(2:19p) -they r bffs-

 

(2:20p) >Jesse's gonna be jealous.<

 

(2:21p) -idk henry takes care of them both n jj will like look @ him n stuff but hes not as interested as jojo-

 

(2:22p) ~for two people who have been alive for less than a month and have little to no comprehension of the universe, they have really different personalities.~

 

(2:23p) -o 4 sure-

 

(2:24p) >It'll be interesting to see what happens to their personalities when they're like, functional people.<

 

(2:25p) -theyre alrdy getting bigger they grow rly fast it kinda makes me sad-

 

(2:26p) ~how you doing about going back to work monday?~

 

(2:27p) -tryna not 2 think abt it-

 

(2:27p) -dnt wanna go-

 

(2:28p) >At least it's just during the week and you'll have all evening with them still.<

 

(2:29p) -but we do tummy time 2gether in the afternoon-

 

(2:30p) ~can you also do it in the evening when you get home?-

 

(2:31p) - :( -

 

(2:32p) >Hang in there, buddy. You're going to work, not Africa.<

 

(2:32p) ~is carol ready to be alone?~

 

(2:33p) -bleh-

 

(2:33p) -idk-

 

(2:34p) >Meaning?<

 

(2:35p) -she says she is n her aunt will be by here n there 2 help but shes still kinda overwhelmed i think n also emotional-

 

(2:36p) ~is she still crying all the time?~

 

(2:37p) -she tries 2 hide it but yeah-

 

(2:37p) -she says its bb blues n its normal-

 

(2:38p) ~hmmm.~

 

(2:39p) -y hmmm?-

 

(2:40p) ~i dunno. she's probably fine, but just keep an eye on her.~

 

(2:41p) -wut do u mean?-

 

(2:42p) ~my middle sister had postpartum depression pretty bad, so i guess i'm just wired to get nervous when you say she's acting sad.~

 

(2:42p) ~baby blues is a real thing, though, so it's totally possible it's that. grace was insufferable for a full month after briar was born.~

 

(2:42p) ~i mean, she's still insufferable, but you get my point.~

 

(2:43p) -ugh-

 

(2:43p) -thts like the opposite of wut my therapist told me 2 do-

 

(2:44p) >What'd your therapist tell you to do?<

 

(2:45p) -idk the past few weeks we've been tlking abt how carol almost dying in childbirth was traumatic 4 me or some bullshit i dunno idek if i believe tht-

 

(2:45p) -but she said 4 me 2 b aware of whn im hovering over her bc im afraid of wut will happen whn im not there ig?-

 

(2:45p) -but now ur saying i shud b hovering bc smthn mite actually b wrong-

 

(2:46p) ~not necessarily. i mean, you have two newborn babies and you probably aren't sleeping at all. her emotions could be 100% normal.~

 

(2:47p) >Yeah, I don't think you have to hover, necessarily. Just be a good partner and pay attention to how she's feeling.<

 

(2:48p) ~and you already do that.~

 

(2:49p) -mmmmk-

 

(2:49p) -we'll c ig-

 

(2:49p) -tlk abt smthn else this is making me anxious-

 

(2:50p) ~ok.~

 

(2:50p) ~have you guys ever played d&d?~

 

(2:51p) >No, I'm not a nerd.<

 

(2:51p) -havent u seen all the pics of my bbies?-

 

(2:52p) ~what's that got to do with anything?~

 

(2:53p) -it means im clearly not a virgin so no i havent played dnd-

 

(2:54p) >Hahahaha.<

 

(2:55p) ~okay, first off, be nice asshole. second of all, it's actually really fun and i think we should play.~

 

(2:56p) >What?<

 

(2:56p) -wut-

 

(2:57p) ~abraham and eugene have invited me to play a few times with their friends and now i wanna try myself.~

 

(2:57p) ~we can do it over skype once your schedule stops being so unpredictable and we're able to resume thursday game nights.~

 

(2:58p) -ive just decided im cant do game nite again until theyre 18 soz-

 

(2:58p) >I also can't do game night until the twins are 18.<

 

(2:59p) ~oh shut up.~

 

(2:59p) ~one way or another i'm gonna convince you guys to play.~

 

(3:00p) >Yeah, sure, okay, you do that. How's tummy time, Daryl?<

 

(3:01p) - _ you sent a photo _ -

 

(3:01p) -no more tummy time-

 

(3:02) ~napping on daddy's chest time.~

 

(3:03p) >Looks like parenthood has some perks.<

 

(3:04p) -yeah its alrite-

 

(3:04p) - :') -

 

—-

 

_ Jojo & JJ _

 

_ I went back to work today after being with you every single day since you was born and it was awful. I thought about you the whole time. I thought about how I wasn't there to pick you up when you woke up from your nap or there to burp you when your momma was done feeding you. I don't like the idea of not being able to see all the cool things you learn how to do. You're already almost a whole month old which is crazy cuz it feels like just yesterday that we were waiting for you to come into the world and now I can't imagine the world without you. I wanna win the lottery not to be rich but so I can be with you all the time while you grow. Prolly won't happen but we can always hope right? _

 

_ Just promise me not to learn anything too cool when I'm not watching. _

 

_ Love you so much that 8 hrs away feels like a lifetime, _

_ Dad _

 

—-

 

_ October 17th _

_ Monday _

 

(9:18a) *I think Jesse smiled at me for real.*

 

(9:29a) -wut??-

 

(9:34a) *Yeah I went to go get him when he woke up and he smiled and I'm pretty sure it was bc he saw me.*

 

(9:37a) -i missed it-

 

(9:39a) *You've seen him smile before.*

 

(9:42a) -yeah from gas but nvr bc he was happy-

 

(9:45a) *It could be a fluke.*

 

(9:45a) *And even if it wasn't, you still have a chance to catch Josie's first smile. Perk of having two.*

 

(9:51a) -yeah but jojos a grump she prob will only ever smile @ henry-

 

(9:53a) *Just bc our daughter has resting bitch face doesn't mean she's a grump, be nice.*

 

(10:00a) -if she keeps tht up whn shes older no one will ever fuk w/ her-

 

(10:00a) -shes 6 weeks old n alrdy looks like she cud throw down w/ u if u crossed her-

 

(10:02a) *I'm telling her you said that.*

 

(10:03a) -hey i luv her 2 death but am i wrong?-

 

(10:07a) *I mean. No. But that's cuz she has your face. You can mean mug pretty seriously when you want to.*

 

(10:11a) -but i dnt have resting bitch face-

 

(10:12a) *.....*

 

(10:14a) -i dnt-

 

(10:15a) *Whatever you say, babe.*

 

(10:18a) -o stfu-

 

(10:23a) *... Don't be upset but…*

 

(10:25a) -but?-

 

(10:26a) *Jesse definitely smiled at me again.*

 

(10:27a) - :( -

 

(10:28a) *He's just perfecting it for when you get home.*

 

(10:32a) -no hes not he prob doesnt even recognize me bc im nvr there 2 c him-

 

(10:34a) *Oh shush, you work a normal 9-5 shift. You make it sound like you've abandoned them.*

 

(10:37a) -just dnt like bein away-

 

(10:38a) *You'd totally be a stay at home dad if you could.*

 

(10:41a) -ofc i wud-

 

(10:43a) *It wouldn't hurt your manly pride if your woman was bringing home the bacon?*

 

(10:46a) -fuk tht bring home all the bacon u wnt i'd b the 1 getting bb smiles-

 

(10:46a) -plus wut does glenn call dumb manly things again? tht phrase he learned from all them books?-

 

(10:50a) *I believe you're referring to toxic masculinity.*

 

(10:52a) -yeah tht-

 

(10:52a) -im not toxically masculine-

 

(10:54a) *Yeah I'm taking a screenshot, thank you for that.*

 

(10:54a) *Anyway. Maybe one day we'll be in a place financially where you can stay home with them.*

 

(10:54a) *I'm kind of looking forward to going back to work next Monday.*

 

(10:57a) -yeah?-

 

(11:01a) *Yeah. Sure it'll be hard to leave them but a little time away will do me good, I think. Spend my days with people who can talk back.*

 

(11:04a) -u feelin cooped up?-

 

(11:07a) *Idk. Am I a bad mom if I say yes?*

 

(11:11a) *Wish.*

 

(11:12a) -did-

 

(11:12a) -also no ofc not ur a gr8 momma but u dnt rly ever get a break-

 

(11:15a) *I think going back to work will help.*

 

(11:16a) *Also speaking of being cooped up, my aunt is forcibly taking me and the kids out to lunch bc I made the mistake of telling her I've worn the same clothes for three days straight.*

 

(11:16a) *What difference does it make?? The only people who sees me are two infants and you, and you've witnessed me giving birth so I already have resigned myself to never having sex appeal in your eyes again.*

 

(11:20a) -wrong-

 

(11:20a) -but goin out w/ ur aunt is a gud idea-

 

(11:20a) -u dnt rly leave the house @ all-

 

(11:23a) *It's a hassle. If I'm by myself with the kids I have to get them all sorted before we can go anywhere, and if you're here watching them I feel like I shouldn't miss out on the opportunity to catch up on sleep.*

 

(11:23a) *Why bother, you know?*

 

(11:27a) -bc its prob making u even more stir crazy-

 

(11:34a) *Whatevs. Back to work next week so it'll be a non-issue soon.*

 

(11:36a) -ig but u shud take some time 4 u 2-

 

(11:39a) *I will when the kids are in college.*

 

(11:39a) *I g2g, my aunt's gonna come pick us up in ten and Jesse lost his sock.*

 

(11:39a) *He can't crawl or walk or even roll over, how does he manage to lose socks??*

 

(11:42a) -its a mystery-

 

(11:42a) -there r clean ones on top of the dryer i didnt get a chance 2 put them away-

 

(11:42a) -tell ur aunt i said hi-

 

(11:44a) *Will do. Love you.*

 

(11:45a) -ilu2-

 

(2:26p) *My aunt made me eat like 10,000 calories bc she thinks I'm losing weight too fast.*

 

(2:26p) *She thinks I'm doing it on purpose to get my "pre-pregnancy body" back, and I'm like, you try to remember to eat when you're at the whims of two helpless human beings.*

 

(2:31p) -doc did say u shud b eating more @ our 1 month appointment rmbr? cuz ur breastfeeding still?-

 

(2:35p) *Not you too.*

 

(2:35p) *Sometimes eating just takes too much energy.*

 

(2:43p) - :/ -

 

(2:43p) -r u skipping meals during the day?-

 

(2:45p) *¯\\_(ツ)_/¯*

 

(2:45p) *I don't even know, tbh, half the time I can't remember if I ate or not.*

 

(2:48p) - :/ -

 

(2:48p) -im gna get u sum easy high calorie stuff 2 eat-

 

(2:51p) *You both worry too much. If I start to waste away you can start pouring protein shakes down my throat.*

 

(2:51p) *Oh, btw, my aunt is watching the kids Friday night.*

 

(3:02p) -wut y?-

 

(3:06p) *Bc she's demanding that the two of us go on a proper date.*

 

(3:10p) -a date?-

 

(3:12p) *Yeah, I didn't remember what those were either. She says it's this thing where two people go and do something fun for a few hours and they don't clean any poopy diapers during it.*

 

(3:13p) -sounds fake-

 

(3:15p) *That's what I said, but she says it's real.*

 

(3:15p) *You down? I know you don't like being away from the kids.*

 

(3:21p) -i dnt but i feel like u n i have barely had any time 2gether since...fuk? idek since the bbies were born? mb even b4 bc we were all focused on getting the house rdy-

 

(3:21p) -lets do it-

 

(3:22p) *Cool. :) *

 

(3:22p) *I don't think she was planning on making it optional anyway.*

 

(3:26p) -lmao-

 

(3:26p) -o hey-

 

(3:26p) -question n u gotta tell the truth-

 

(3:29p) *Ok. Shoot.*

 

(3:31p) -did jj smile @ ur aunt?-

 

(3:33p) *........*

 

(3:33p) *...yeah...*

 

(3:34p) -son of a bitch-

 

(3:34p) -im gna go fix this dumb car n b sad-

 

(3:37p) *Less than two hours before you can see him yourself!*

 

(3:40p) -yeah yeah-

 

(3:40p) -working sux-

 

(3:40p) -@ least save tummy time 4 me?-

 

(3:42p) *I would never interfere with your tummy time, my love.*

 

(3:43p) -ty-

 

(3:43p) -c u in a bit-

 

(3:44p) *We'll be waiting.*

 

(3:45p) - <3 -

 

—-

 

_ October 21st _

_ Saturday _

 

“Okay, so which movie are we going to go to?” Carol asks, sitting across from Daryl in their booth at Rosemarie’s Diner. 

 

“Remind me what’s playing,” says Daryl through a mouthful of burger.

 

“ _ RoboCop 2 _ , what sounds like an incredibly depressing documentary about four black and one hispanic men getting framed for a brutal assault of some lady, and  _ Dirty Dancing _ .”

 

“One day I wanna meet whoever secures the rights to the movies that place shows,” Daryl says, shaking his head in bemusement. “I’d say the documentary is out.”

 

“You sure? Nothing says romantic date night like an in-depth look at the injustices of our country’s legal system,” Carol jokes, pushing her food around on her plate with a French fry. 

 

“Yeah, hard pass. Also, stop playing with your food and eat it.” 

 

Carol snorts.

 

“Did you just Dad Voice me?” she asks. 

 

“Shit, I did didn’t I?” Daryl says with a grimace. “Sorry. You still should be eatin’, though. Your aunt is right, you’ve lost a lot of weight real fast. I dunno how I didn’t notice.”

 

Carol takes half a bite of her French fry with an eye roll and a sigh. She says, “I told you sometimes it’s just not worth the effort to go and try to scrounge up something to eat if I could be using the time to sleep instead.” 

 

“I ain’t tryna argue,” Daryl says, holding his hands up in surrender. “Just an observation is all.”

 

“Mm,” Carol hums, but she takes another bite anyway. “Okay, so that narrows it down to a bad sci-fi movie or a romantic classic. Both have their perks.” 

 

“You gotta preference?”

 

“Hmm,” she says thoughtfully, taking a sip of her Coke. “I say  _ Dirty Dancing _ . Fits the aesthetic of the night.” 

 

“Fine with me. What’s it about? I never seen it.”

 

“Oh my God, Daryl, how have you seen every Lifetime movie ever produced and yet are completely oblivious to actual good movies?”

 

“‘Cause good movies don’t play on the Lifetime Movie Network channel,” Daryl argues, and Carol gives him a fond smile. “Any ships sink in this one? People freezing to death in the ocean ‘cause their girlfriends won’t share their rafts?”

 

“For the last time, they wouldn’t have both fit on it.” 

 

“Uh huh. Remind me never to go out on a ship with you. If we sank you’d get on a piece of debris the size of a wall and tell me, ‘Sorry babe, there’s not enough room.’”

 

“Oh my God, shut up,” Carol laughs, chucking a French fry at his face. She checks the time and says, “We should finish up here soon if we wanna hit up the dollar store for snacks. Plus, I gotta pump before we go or I’m gonna have boulders stuck to my chest by the end of the night. You brought the bag cooler, right?”

 

“‘Course. After you spilled that bottle of breast milk and cried for a half hour I ain’t riskin’ wasting any.”

 

“That shit is liquid gold, Daryl, you don’t understand.”

 

“Yeah, well, if you’re gonna be keepin’ it up,” he says, picking up one of her French fries and holding it up to her mouth. “ _ You gotta eat. _ ” 

 

Carol glares at him, but opens her mouth and lets him feed her the fry. 

 

“Yes, sir,” she says through a mouthful of potato. Daryl smiles and blows her a kiss.

 

—-

 

The two of them sit in the very top seats of the movie theater. There are three other people there, two that seems to be another couple a ways down from them, and the other being the theater’s trademark creepy guy who always sits somewhere in the first three rows. Carol has managed to sneak in the following:

 

A bag of gummy worms, a box of brown sugar, store brand Pop-Tarts, a handful of chocolate candies that have melted a little in her pocket, a liter bottle of rootbeer, and of course, a bag of salted popcorn. Daryl is relieved to see that she appears to be willing to actually snack on her conquests instead of just letting them sit. Empty calories, he figures, are better than none at all.

 

They sit through previews of movies that came out years ago, as well as an advertisement for a local pawn shop. Carol curls up in her seat like a cat and leans her head against Daryl’s shoulder. Daryl wraps his arm around her and kisses her on the temple.

 

“You missin’ the kids?” she asks him quietly. He shrugs.

 

“I mean, I always do when I’m away,” he says. “But I don’t think I realized how much I missed  _ you _ .” 

 

“Yeah,” Carol whispers as the feature presentation starts to play. “It’s been pretty much nothin’ but baby duty twenty-four seven.” Daryl cranes his neck to see her. 

 

“Hey,” he whispers. She looks up at him.

 

“Hm?”

 

“Are you okay?” 

 

She furrows her brow.

 

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

 

“I dunno,” Daryl says, rubbing his thumb in small circles on her shoulder. “It’s just been a lot lately, and I know you been stuck with the brunt of it since I been back at work. And you know me—I worry.”

 

“I’m okay,” she tells him, and he nods.

 

“You’d tell me if you weren’t, though?”

 

She twists her mouth.

 

“Yeah,” she says after a beat. “I promised I would, didn’t I?”

 

“You did,” Daryl says. He kisses her temple again and lets the subject drop. 

 

The arm of the old, uncomfortable theater chair digs into his side, but he holds her from the beginning scenes, all the way to the credits. He’d not forgotten, per say, but hadn’t thought about it in a long time, that the children he loves so much came from this woman in his arms, and his love for her is just as incomprehensibly deep as it is for them. 

 

It feels nice to be reminded.

 

—-

 

“I’m just sayin’ that it seems kinda corny that all them problems were solved ‘cause of a fancy dance number.”

 

“The movie literally has dancing in the title, what did you expect?” Carol says, laughing at Daryl’s tirade as they drive back from the theater.

 

“It’s not that I didn’t expect dancin’, but it was just silly.”

 

“Okay, but it was a cool dance number, right?”

 

“I mean, yeah, it was a good one,” Daryl says, smirking at her. “I pick the movie next time, though.”

 

“Whatever,” Carol says, sticking her tongue out. The pull up to their driveway and Daryl puts the car in park. He turns off the ignition and makes to move, but Carol puts a hand on his arm and says, “Wait.”

 

“What’s up?” he asks, looking at her expectantly. She bites her lower lip.

 

“Um,” she says. “So, it’s been six weeks, and I know we haven’t... _ done _ anything in a really long time, and it’s okay if you want to tonight. With it being date night and all.”

 

Daryl furrows his brow.

 

“Weren’t you sayin’ just the other day that you don’t feel all the way normal yet?” he asks.

 

“I mean, it’s still  _ different  _ down there, but it’s technically all healed up. You’re not gonna like, break anything or something.”

 

“‘Not breaking anything’ don’t sound very enthusiastic.”

 

“No, we can. It’ll be fine.”

 

“Fine don’t sound enthusiastic neither. Baby, are you sayin’ we can have sex ‘cause  _ you  _ wanna have sex, or ‘cause you think I’m sufferin’ ‘cause we ain’t done it for a while?”

 

“Isn’t that the proper way to end our first date in months?” she asks and Daryl frowns.

 

“That ain’t an answer,” he says, and Carol casts her gaze down to her lap. He places two fingers under her chin gently to make her lift her head and meet his eye. “We’re not gonna have sex ‘til we  _ both  _ want it,” he says. She grimaces.

 

“I dunno when that will be,” she says quietly. “And I don’t want you waiting around for me to get over myself.”

 

“Carol,” Daryl says, cupping her cheeks. “It ain’t good for me if it ain’t good for you. If it’s another few weeks, or if it’s a whole goddamn year, I’ll live, okay? I told you that before, and I meant it.” 

 

“I can do stuff for you if you want,” she starts, but Daryl’s already shaking his head. He leans over to give her a long, closed-mouth kiss.

 

“Not until we both want it,” he says again, pulling just far enough away to look at her. After a beat she nods.

 

“Okay,” she says quietly. “Thank you.”

 

“I love you,” he says. “And I had a good time with you tonight. I don’t need sex to enjoy bein’ with you. That ain’t why I’m yours.” 

 

“Alright,” she says with a soft smile. “Let’s go see what fresh hell those demons of ours are raising with my aunt, then?”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” Daryl says. He kisses her once more before opening his door.

 

—-

 

_ October 31st _

_ Monday _

 

(7:34p) ~hap p y Hallmark card ghouls.~

 

(7:34p) ~halitosis.~

 

(7:34p) ~Harambe.~ 

 

(7:37p) >Yeah, happy Halloween to you, too, how are you this drunk at seven thirty?<

 

(7:39p) ~that is college culture bittch. .~

 

(7:39p) ~sorry you’re not a bitch you are my friend. my friend bitch.~

 

(7:40p) -jfc-

 

(7:41p) >You having as much fun as Glenn tonight, Daryl?<

 

(7:43p) -carols aunt gave us lil halloween costumes 4 the bbies n we were like thts dumb we aint gna use these they dnt even kno wut halloween is-

 

(7:44p) >You put them in the costumes, didn’t you?<

 

(7:45p) -shut up-

 

(7:46p) ~share with the classism darling!!~

 

(7:47p) -dear god-

 

(7:47p) -but ya ok-

 

(7:47p) - _ you sent a photo _ -

 

(7:48p) ~!!! ! ! !! ,,!~

 

(7:48p) >Oh no.<

 

(7:48p) >That’s adorable.<

 

(7:48p) >Lil Wonder Woman and Superman.<

 

(7:49p) -my kids r the cutest kids-

 

(7:50p) ~they are but don’t tell my sister that i thought briar look e d like an alien when he was bourgeois.~ 

 

(7:51p) >Your secret is safe with us.<

 

(7:51p) -mostly cuz i can barely understand wtf ur sayin-

 

(7:52p) ~oh hey ghouls! so i started writing my campaign four when we play dungeons and dungeons.~

 

(7:52p) ~dragons and dungeons.~

 

(7:52p) ~dungeons and drag races.~

 

(7:53p) -ur drunk txting is giving me a migraine-

 

(7:53p) >Also I thought we explicitly said that we weren’t going to play dungeons and dragons with you.<

 

(7:55p) ~i know but i ignorred you.~

 

(7:55p) ~so i will let you ghouls know when it’s ready and i’ll teach you how too play.~

 

(7:56p) -we aint gna play-

 

(7:56p) >The only way we’re playing is if you kidnap us and hold us hostage.<

 

(7:57p) ~okay that’s what i’ll do then thanks for the advice. it’s gonna be really funnel.~

 

(7:58p) >Jesus Christ, leave whatever Halloween party you’re at, go sober up somewhere, and don’t come back until you do.<

 

(8:00p) ~whatever.~

 

(8:00p) ~happy hallway.~

 

(8:01p) -happy hallway 2 u 2-

 

(8:01p) >A very happy hallway to us all.<

 

—-

 

_ November 5th _

_ Saturday _

 

“ _ A county inmate is attempting to contact you. Press one to accept the charges. _ ”

 

Daryl, sitting criss-cross on the floor next to the babies’ playmat, presses one. 

 

“Baby brother!” Merle says, the usual pep back in his voice.

 

“Hey,” Daryl says.

 

“What’re you up to?”

 

“Feeding Jojo,” he says, holding his phone between his ear and shoulder while he adjusts Josie in his arms so that he can tilt her bottle up properly.

 

“Where’s the other one?”

 

“Carol’s right here feeding him,” he says, glancing over to where Carol’s breastfeeding Jesse. 

 

“Tell that wonderful woman hello,” Merle says. Daryl rolls his eyes, and says,

 

“Merle says hi.”

 

“Hi, Merle,” Carol says, switching Jesse to the other side.

 

“She said hi.”

 

“I heard. So listen, I’m out Monday mornin’. I figure you got work and everything, but I thought maybe I could, I dunno, swing by and see you. Meet the lil ones. Still haven’t got a chance.”

 

“Yeah, sorry, just the idea of bringing them to the pen…”

 

“Nah, I get it,” Merle says a bit too quickly. “But don’t matter once I’m out, right. Unless you need me to...I dunno. You need me to do somethin’?” 

 

“Um,” Daryl says, looking at Carol who tilts her head at him questioningly. “Maybe...uh...I dunno, maybe you could come over for dinner Monday night?” He watches for Carol’s reaction. She shrugs. 

 

“If you’re okay with it, I am,” she whispers, and he nods.

 

“Yeah?” Merle asks hopefully.

 

“Yeah, why not? Uh, how you gettin’ around?”

 

“Left my bike over at a friend’s place before I went in the slammer. Gotta update the tags so I ain’t ridin’ dirty, but I got some cash in the bank to take care of it. ‘Til then my buddy Huck offered to give me rides. You ‘member him? He owns that tattoo shop?”

 

“I remember,” Daryl says. Vividly, he doesn’t say, remembering Huck hitting on Carol the entire time he tattooed her back. 

 

“Yeah. Real dumbass of a guy, but he’s clean. Can’t say that for most the people I know.”

 

“No, that’s good. I get off work at five. After I pick up the kids I should be home by five forty-five. You can come by at six, and we’ll eat when Carol’s off at seven?”

 

“Sounds like a plan to me, baby brother,” Merle says, and Daryl can tell he’s trying to tone back the enthusiasm in his voice. “I’ll see you then?”

 

“Yeah. See you then.”

 

“Aight. I’ll let you get back to the rugrats. Um. Love y’all or whatever.”

 

“...Right. You, too.”

 

Merle ends the call on his end without another word. Daryl takes the bottle from Josie’s mouth just long enough to grab his phone, stare at it in confusion for a moment, and sit it off to the side.

 

“What is it?” Carol asks.

 

“Every time he’s called lately he’s ended it with some version of ‘I love you,’” Daryl says, shaking his head with his brow knit together as he gives Josie her bottle back. 

 

“Is that a bad thing?” 

 

“No, but it’s a fuckin’ weird thing. We ain’t never said that to each other in our whole lives. I dunno where it’s comin’ from.”

 

“Maybe it’s his way of showing you he’s trying?”

 

“Maybe,” Daryl mutters. 

 

“How are you feeling about him coming over?” Carol asks gently. Daryl thinks about it and then gives a big shrug.

 

“No clue,” he says honestly. “Don’t got a damn idea how I feel.”

 

“Well, I guess all we can do now is wait and see how it plays out,” Carol says.

 

“Guess so,” Daryl agrees. “Hope he doesn’t fuck it up.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, sorry i'm a little late. i was SO tired last night i basically passed out when i got home. this shouldn't affect sunday at all, tho.
> 
> i prob have stuff to say but i'm late to work, so uh. love y'all or whatever.
> 
> c u soon,  
> -diz


	19. Deserve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning in end notes if you wanna check that first

_ November 6th _

_ Sunday _

 

“It ain’t that I don’t want him here, you know? It’s just that our whole life he ain’t never been one to think of others, and I don’t know why he’d start now. I mean, I guess I do. I guess he’s got reason to stay clean and sort out his life, but a part of me don’t think he can do it. I dunno. Am I bein’ too harsh on him?” 

 

Daryl stops his rambling and looks down expectantly at the twins, who are laying side-by-side on their backs on an infant playmat. Jesse sticks his fist in his mouth, and Josie makes a gurgling noise that produces a couple spit bubbles. Daryl nods.

 

“Yeah, I know, I pro’ly should give him the benefit of the doubt. But if he messes up it ain’t just me he’s lettin’ down. It’s me, your momma, and worst of all, it’s you. What if y’all actually get attached to him and then he decides he’d rather choose the dope? I ain’t lettin’ you guys near him while he’s on the stuff, no matter how much you love him.” 

 

Jesse drools around his hand and Josie hiccups and spits up a little. Daryl sighs. 

 

“It ain’t that easy,” he argues, wiping the corner of both their mouths with a burp rag. “It’s not that I’d  _ wanna  _ cast him outta our lives, but you don’t know what he’s like when he’s methed out. He ain’t the same guy at all. Shit makes him straight up mean as hell. I been at the receiving end of that enough times in my life to know I don’t want you bein’ a part of it.” 

 

Josie sneezes.

 

“Bless you,” says Daryl.

 

Jesse coos some muffled sound around his fist still crammed in his mouth. Daryl frowns.

 

“‘Cause it’s my job to protect you, that’s why,” he tells Jesse. “When you’re grown and got babies of your own then you can make those kinds of decisions, but right now it’s up to me and your momma to make sure you’re safe and protected. We can’t shield you from the whole world, but we can keep some of the shitty parts away.”

 

The twins both stare at him, and he twists his mouth.

 

“I’m doin’ it again, huh? Goin’ off on a rant when he ain’t even done nothin’ yet to deserve it. You’re right, ‘course you’re right, I gotta give him a chance.”

 

He criss-crosses his legs and scoops Josie up, balancing her on one knee. He does the same with Jesse.

 

“You think it’ll go okay?” he asks them.

 

Josie hiccups again, and Jesse gives his dad a toothless smile. 

 

“I’m holdin’ you to that,” he tells them. He kisses them both on the forehead, his anxiety quelled for now.

 

—-

 

_ November 7th _

_ Monday _

 

The first time Daryl ever heard the word meth, it was from Merle.

 

Their daddy had never been a pleasant man, but after their mother died there was a marked change in his behavior that Daryl was too young to understand. He knew that his daddy was up at odd hours, never seemed to sleep, and would sometimes go on sudden and frightening rampages where he’d toss furniture and punch walls, causing Daryl to run and hide in the trees. The worse his daddy got, the more the kids at school distanced themselves from him, say for a stray comment about the state of his clothes or the part of town he lived in.

 

“Why’s he do stuff like that?” Daryl asked Merle one night after the two of them were tasked with sweeping up glass shards strewn across the kitchen floor from where their daddy had chucked a glass pitcher of sweet tea in a rage before storming out and disappearing up the street to the liquor store. 

 

“It’s the meth, dumbass,” Merle had said. Daryl’d been young, but Merle was still a kid himself, even if he didn’t think he was. He was just over the threshold between preteen and teen, his voice cracking every few sentences, and sparse chin hairs poking out in between the acne. But he already knew the details of their father’s many addictions. He understood the booze, and the women, and he understood the meth.

 

The pipe that sat on their living room coffee table spoke to the two brothers differently over the years. 

 

Daryl saw it as a chain, but Merle saw it as an escape, and how could Daryl judge him when he understood what it was like to live with the wounds of their childhood? If the drugs dulled the pain, well, he could understand that, even if he didn’t like it.

 

But all Daryl had wanted for so many years was camaraderie; for a brother who saw him suffering and did something as simple as say, “I get it.” But all Merle had ever been was a guy that showed up on the doorstep every few months with blown pupils, or a voice on the other end of a collect call asking for money. And Daryl never faulted him, never told him off, never asked for anything return, because it could have so easily been him.

 

As he walks through his front door carrying two car seats and leaning down to unbuckle his children, he can’t help but think how it could have been him. 

 

_ It could have been him. _

 

And that’s the hardest thing about Merle out of all of it.

 

After he lets Henry out, Daryl lifts each twin out of their seat and lays them down on the playmat. The house is slowly getting taken over by baby things. There’s a playmat in nearly every room, random blankets and burp rags slung over the backs of chairs and on top of tables, pacifiers everywhere (except when they’re trying to find one, and then they seem to be nowhere), and diapers and wipes always within reach. 

 

“You two have a good time at your aunt’s?” he asks, lowering himself to the ground in front of them. He picks a few cat hairs off of the twins’ onesies, rolling his eyes. “Good thing you ain’t allergic to cats like your momma is.” He pulls out his phone and checks the clock. Merle could show up at any time. Daryl swallows down a lump in his throat.

 

“Daddy spent his whole morning scrubbin’ and degreasin’ concrete ‘cause Axel decided to get hammered on a Sunday night and came to work hungover and then spilled a quart and a half of motor oil,” he tells them, playing absently with Josie’s foot. “Can’t be too mad, though, ‘cause he’s covered about a thousand shifts for me so I could take care of mommy when she was carryin’ y’all. I owe him.”

 

From outside, Daryl hears Henry start barking, and the sound of gravel kicking up beneath car tires. He sucks in a breath and gives his kids a tight smile.

 

“That’ll be your uncle,” he tells them. “Don’t know how he’ll be compared to your auntie, but I do know he’s always called wine a pussy drink, so you don’t gotta worry about that at least.” He stands up. “Be right back, alright?” 

 

He goes over to the door and tries to psych himself up the best he can, before turning the handle. Through the screen he sees Merle crouched down letting Henry sniff his hand. Whoever dropped him off has already peeled away from the drive, leaving just his brother out in front of his house with nothing but a single bag slung over his shoulder. 

 

“Hey,” Daryl says after a beat. Merle’s head snaps up and he breaks out into a wide grin. 

 

“Baby brother!” he says, giving Henry one last pat on the head before straightening up and heading up the stoop. Daryl opens the screen door and lets Merle give him a tight hug, complete with several thumps to the back with a fist. Merle steps back and holds his arms to the sides. “Well?” he says. “How’d’I look as a civilian?” 

 

“Alright,” Daryl says. “Shame they couldn’t do nothin’ about your face, but I guess there’s just some stuff you can’t change.” 

 

Merle bursts out laughing, dropping his arms. “That’s how we’re startin’ this new relationship of ours, huh?” he asks, shaking his head. “Well, I’ll tell you what, this face has gotten around plenty, and is lookin’ forward to gettin’ around again now that it’s no longer behind bars.”

 

“Here’s hopin’ you keep all the details to yourself,” Daryl says.

 

“You’re right, we don’t need to talk about me gettin’ some. Let’s talk about  _ you  _ gettin’ some. I hear talk a couple special somethin’s came out of it.”

 

“Great way to put it,” Daryl mumbles, and Merle snorts, clapping him on the shoulder.

 

“You gonna let me in or are we gonna do supper standing here on the steps?” he asks. Daryl chews on his lower lip, and after a moment’s hesitation, he nods.

 

“Yeah, come in,” he says. “Leave your jacket, though, you smell like cigarettes.” 

 

“Yes, sir,” Merle says with a faux salute, slipping off his jacket and hanging it over the railing. His outfit is incredibly mundane—just a t-shirt and a pair of jeans—but it’s bizarre for Daryl to see his brother outside of something other than an orange jumpsuit. Merle looks at him expectantly, and Daryl beckons him in. 

 

Inside, Jesse is already starting to whine at being left alone. Instinctively, Daryl goes over to him and lifts him up off the mat. He glances over his shoulder and sees Merle hovering by the door, looking uncertain. As Daryl turns to face him, Merle’s eyes flit from Daryl’s face, to the baby, and back again, and Daryl can’t help but smile. 

 

“Wanna meet ‘em?” he asks. Very slowly, Merle nods. 

 

“Don’t know how to hold a baby, though,” he admits, grimacing a little at the admission.

 

“Ain’t complicated,” Daryl assures him. “Here, it’s easier if you sit.” He gestures at the couch. Merle rubs the nape of his neck before walking over and plopping down. 

 

“Who’s this one?” Merle asks, craning his neck to see the baby.

 

“JJ,” Daryl says. “Here.” 

 

Merle immediately stiffens as Daryl gently transfers Jesse into his arms. “He still needs his head supported,” Daryl says. “But you don’t gotta be a statue. I promise he ain’t gonna break. They’re tougher than they look.” 

 

“Yeah, alright,” Merle mutters, although he doesn’t look any less tense. He stares at the baby in his arms saying nothing for a long time. Finally, he says, “Pictures don’t do ‘em justice, do they?”

 

“Not even close,” Daryl agrees. Confident that Jesse is safe with Merle for the time being, Daryl goes back over to the playmat to get Josie, who is entertaining herself by staring up at her reflection in the tiny mirror hanging among the shapes and toys in the colorful mobile above her. She turns her attention to Daryl as he picks her up. He cradles her against his chest and the two of them sit on the cushion beside Merle. 

 

“That my niece?” Merle asks, glancing over at them with a stiff neck, as though moving an inch might endanger the baby he’s holding.   
  


“Hope so, otherwise I picked up the wrong kid,” Daryl says. “Dude,  _ calm down _ . He’s not gonna go leapin’ outta your arms or nothin’.”

 

With what seems like tremendous effort, Merle relaxes his shoulders and leans back against the couch. Jesse, happy just to be held, snuggles in closer, resting one of his fists against Merle’s sternum. Merle creases his brow and lets out a huff of laughter.

 

“Hey lil’ guy,” he says quietly. “Sorry I ain’t been around ‘til now, but I promise you I plan to come see you a whole lot more, alright?” 

 

Daryl chews on his lower lip and keeps his doubts to himself. Instead, he asks,

 

“Wanna trade?” 

 

Merle tears his eyes from Jesse to look at Daryl offering Josie.

 

“How’d’ya go back and forth with ‘em? I wanna meet her but I ain’t sure I wanna give this one up yet.”

 

“I’ll show you how to hold ‘em both at the same time here later, but you barely can handle yourself with one so let’s start slow, yeah?” Daryl says, trying to suppress his grin. Outside of the doctor, and one visit with their friends, Daryl has barely had anyone to fawn over his kids like  he feels they deserve. There’s a strange sense of pride that wells up inside him as he helps Merle figure out how to swap twins. Daryl watches the look of awe on his face as he sees Josie in person for the first time. Josie searches Merle’s face right back with that same expression of hers she gets when she sees something new, like she’s trying to understand it. 

 

“I’ll be damned, there’s really two of ‘em,” Merle says, shaking his head. He’s still holding his body rigidly, but not to the same extreme. To Josie, he says, “Dunno if you heard what I told your brother, but my apologies, lil’ lady, for not meetin’ you ‘til now. Gonna make sure to see a whole lot more of you now, though.” He laughs then and adds, “Atta girl, that’s a sweet smile you got there.”

 

Daryl, briefly distracted by dealing with Jesse, snaps his head up. 

 

“What?” he asks sharply. He leans over to see Josie’s face, but she’s completely neutral. “Did she seriously smile at you?” 

 

“Oh yeah, plain as day,” Merle says. He takes a hold of Josie’s hand and says, “You wanna smile at your Uncle Merle again?”

 

Daryl is baffled when Josie smiles, her chubby cheeks scrunching up. 

 

“What the fuck?” Daryl says, leaning back into his own space and frowning.

 

“What? She ain’t never smiled before or somethin’?” Merle asks, raising an eyebrow at him.

 

“She has, but it’s real rare. JJ dishes smiles out like they’re goin’ outta style, but Jojo? She’ll smile at Henry, and if you’re lucky she’ll smile at you if she wakes up from a nap in a good mood. I ain’t never been able to get her to smile just by talkin’ at her, though,” Daryl says.

 

“Ha!” Merle barks a laugh. “You jealous, baby brother?” 

 

“Kinda,” Daryl admits. “Imma just assume it’s ‘cause she thinks you’re funny lookin’.”

 

“Yeah, you tell yourself whatever you want, baby brother, but me and Jojo here, we know the truth. Don’t we?” Merle grins at Josie, who smiles back a third time.

 

“Traitor,” Daryl mutters at his daughter . “Your sister’s bein’ an ass,” he tells Jesse, who smiles, happy at being talked to. Daryl snorts. “Thanks, bud,” he says, patting him on the belly. 

 

“Hey, how long ‘til your woman gets home?” Merle asks then. 

 

“Uh…” Daryl starts, fishing his phone out of his pocket and checking the time. “Little less than an hour?”

 

Merle nods.

 

“Here, take this beauty from me for a second,” he says, stiffly lifting up Josie. Daryl, an expert at this by now, takes Josie without jostling Jesse around hardly at all. Wordlessly, Merle gets up and goes over to where he’d sat his bag down, and Daryl watches with a furrowed brow as he rifles through it.

 

“Whaddya doin’?” Daryl asks.

 

“I got somethin’ for you, hold on,” says Merle. After a little more digging he pulls out what he was looking for and comes back to the couch. Whatever it is fits in one hand. He goes to hand it to Daryl and pauses when he realizes his hands are full. “Uh,” he says. “Here, hand one over.”

 

“Any preference?” Daryl asks with a smirk.

 

“Nah, I ain’t pickin’ favorites,” Merle says, and accepts Jesse back into his arms. “‘Kay, now you take this,” he says, holding whatever it is out to him. 

 

“What is it?” Daryl asks, taking it. He looks it over and realizes it’s a small ring box.

 

“Open it,” Merle instructs. 

 

After a beat, Daryl lifts the top to reveal a gold diamond ring. It needs to be shined, and it seems old, but Daryl can tell that it’s of significant value. The diamond isn’t huge, but it’s not anything to scoff at either. Daryl knits his brow together and looks up at Merle, shaking his head.

 

“What’s this?” he asks.

 

“Mom’s wedding ring,” Merle says. Daryl’s heart skips a beat.

 

“What?” he asks, looking back down at the ring. “That don’t make any sense. Everything of mom’s got lost in the fire. And even if it didn’t, how come you have it?” He lifts his head back up and stares at Merle expectantly.

 

“She didn’t wear her ring much no more in those last few months before the fire,” Merle explains, adjusting Josie in his arms. “She kept it in her lock box. It was fire retardant, so it was one of the few things they managed to salvage. I was with the ol’ man when he went through the box. He was just drunk enough to talk my ear off, but not drunk enough to be a piece of shit, for once.

 

“He told me a story, ‘though I think he was more talkin’ to himself, ‘bout how he went to mom’s daddy to ask for her hand—’cause you know, our ol’ man, real southern gentleman that one; knock a girl up, sure, but he’d be damned if he didn’t get her daddy’s approval to marry her.” Merle rolls his eyes. “But I guess our granddaddy didn’t want to say yes at first, and who could blame him, right? But eventually he came around, and he gave our ol’ man that ring right there, and he said that it was his wife’s—our grandmama’s—and that after she’d passed he’d kept it. He told our ol’ man that if he was gonna marry his daughter he wasn’t gonna do it with no clearance aisle ring, and so that’s how momma ended up with grandmama’s wedding ring.”

 

“So how’d you get it?” 

 

“The ol’ man gave it to me, if you can believe it. Doubt he remembers doin’ it, but he handed it over and the only thing he said was, ‘She was the type of woman who deserved that ring.’ Only nice thing I ever heard him say about her. 

 

“I kept it this whole time. Almost pawned it for drugs nearly a thousand times, but I never could go through with it. No matter where I was—army, the back streets, prison—I always knew where it was. Only thing of hers I ever got.”

 

Daryl processes this.

 

“Then why’re you givin’ it to me?” he asks finally. Merle smiles.

 

“‘Cause, baby brother, who of the two of us has the type of woman who deserves that ring?” 

 

Daryl blinks.

 

“Merle, we ain’t at that place yet. I mean, I don’t even know if that’s somethin’ she—” he starts, but Merle holds up his hand.

 

“I ain’t sayin’ you gotta get on one knee tonight at supper,” he says. “I’m just sayin’ that when you do get to that point, I want you to use that ring.” 

 

“What if we never get to that point?” Daryl asks. Merle shakes his head dismissively.

 

“You will,” he says. “You’re as loyal as a puppy dog, baby brother, you wouldn’t leave her for nothin’.”

 

Daryl traces the visible part of the ring with his thumb.

 

“It ain’t me I’m worried about,” he says quietly.

 

“I’d bet my left ass cheek that she ain’t goin’ nowhere neither,” Merle says. “But like I said, you hold onto it for as long as you need.”

 

“What about you, though?” Daryl asks. “What if you get yourself a girl you wanna be with? Someone like your girl back in 29 Palms?” 

 

“Nah,” Merle says. “That don’t seem likely, and even if it happens, that ring? It was mine to keep up ‘til now, but it wasn’t mine to have forever. Carol, she’s the type of woman who deserves that ring. And you, baby brother?” He smiles over at Josie in Daryl’s arms, and then down at Jesse who has started to snooze. “You’re the type of man who deserves that woman.”

 

—-

 

_ November 8th _

_ Tuesday _

 

Soccer Mom greets Daryl with a tight smile that doesn’t meet her eyes. She’s sans Ryan today, sitting alone on one of the uncomfortable waiting room chairs, unfurling the wire of a paper clip. Daryl almost takes the seat across the room, but decides at the last minute to sit beside her.

 

“Hey,” he says hesitantly. “You good?” 

 

Soccer Mom stares at him with a distant expression, before sighing and leaning back against her chair.

 

“You’ve been coming here a while, yeah?” she asks. Daryl shrugs, the question seeming rhetorical since she’s seen him here since his day one. She twists the wavy, straightened out paper clip around one of her fingers. “Do you ever feel like you’re taking one step forward and two steps back? Like you see your progress, and then something else pops up that makes it all seem pointless?”

 

Daryl is at a loss at first. His relationship with this woman is bizarre. If pressed, he’d say they were friends, but the only thing he knows about her is that she has a son and she goes to therapy on Tuesday afternoons; he doesn’t even know her name.

 

“I guess I don’t think of it in terms of like…” He holds out one hand and says, “Here’s point A, and here’s point B.” He gestures with his other hand, his arms held a short distance apart. “It don’t feel like a straight line to me.”

 

“No?” asks Soccer Mom, looking at him curiously. “Then what is it?” 

 

Daryl lets his arms fall to his sides while he considers the question.

 

“I can’t speak for you, but when I come here I tell my doc what’s on my mind and she helps me figure out why I’m thinkin’ that way, and sometimes things are connected, and sometimes they ain’t at all, but it never feels like I’m tryna find a...I dunno,  _ cure _ for my life. She just helps me figure out how to live it the best I can.”

 

Soccer Mom bounces her knee up and down a few times before asking, “Do you think it helps? Even when you screw up and don’t live the best you can?”

 

“I mean, yeah,” Daryl says. “‘Cause at least I know why I screwed up and I know it ain’t gonna be like that every time.”

 

Soccer Mom trains her gaze on her lap, her brow furrowed.

 

“After Ryan was born I got really bad. I was so depressed I couldn’t even bond with him. And my therapist, she helps me. During our solo sessions we get to root causes, and in joint sessions she helps me connect with him, but it makes me feel like such a shit mom, you know? That I have to get professional help because being a parent threw me off the deep end. And sometimes I still have a short fuse, or I relapse back into episodes, and I don’t get the point of why I come here at all if I’m not getting better.”

 

“Are you as depressed as you was the first time you came here?” Daryl asks after a beat. Soccer Mom hazards a glance up at him and shakes her head slightly. “And you have good days with the bad?” 

 

“Yeah,” Soccer Mom says. 

 

“Then you are gettin’ better,” Daryl tells her. “And you ain’t a shit mom. I seen the kid—he thinks you shit rainbows.” Soccer Mom smiles at that. He returns the smile and says, “Seems silly to measure progress in terms of how many days in a row you’re happy. Anybody who’s happy one hundred percent of the time is definitely on drugs, and that’s a whole other problem.”

 

He feels good when she laughs. 

 

“Daryl?” says Dr. Peterson at the doorway.

 

“Yeah, just one sec,” Daryl tells her. He regards Soccer Mom. “You good?” he asks her again.

 

“I’m good,” she says softly. “Thank you.”

 

Daryl gives her knee a quick squeeze before getting up to follow Dr. Peterson back to her office.

 

“Okay, let’s see them,” Dr. Peterson says before anything else, taking her seat and looking at Daryl expectantly. Daryl grins, whipping his phone out of his pocket. He spends the first couple minutes of the session showing her the newest photos of the twins. She “oohs” and “awws” at all the right places, and Daryl doesn’t even care if she’s doing it just to indulge him—his kids deserve to be showcased. 

 

“They get bigger every week,” Dr. Peterson muses when Daryl finally takes his own seat, plopping far back in the armchair with his eyes trained on her. 

 

“I know right,” he says. “They’re little weeds. Jojo held her head up for like, five whole seconds the other day during tummy time and JJ is gettin’ good at unclenching his fists.” 

 

“Smart kids,” says Dr. Peterson, and Daryl nods proudly. 

 

“My brother fell for them instantly.”

 

“Seems hard not to. And how did your visit with your brother go yesterday?”

 

“Um,” Daryl says thoughtfully. “Good, I think. He was real polite and respectful with Carol. I think he respects her a lot, which of course he should, but I never woulda banked on. It was funny watchin’ him with the kids ‘cause he ain’t got the first clue about babies, but they all got used to each other real quick. In fact, Jojo, the little turd, was all smiles with him from the jump, so she’s got him eatin’ outta the palm of his hand for sure. I dunno. It was nice. Kinda weird, but nice. It’s like he’s actually tryin’, you know?” 

 

“How’s he doing with his sobriety?”

 

“Far as I can tell he’s clean. For now at least.” Daryl twists his mouth and amends, “I mean he’s clean. I shouldn’t say the ‘for now,’ part. I was talkin’ with Jojo and JJ and we agreed that I need to give him more benefit of the doubt.”

 

“Jojo and JJ said that, huh?” Dr. Peterson asks with a smirk.

 

“Well, not out loud, obviously” Daryl says defensively. “But it’s what they woulda said if they knew how to talk.” 

 

“Of course.” 

 

“Anyway,” Daryl says pointedly. “It was a good start.”

 

“Well, I’m glad to hear it.”

 

“There was one weird thing,” Daryl says slowly. “He gave me our mom’s old wedding ring. Said he wanted me to give it to Carol when we get married.  _ When _ , he said, not if.”

 

“Is marriage something you’ve discussed with her before?”

 

“Other than a few passing comments, nah. It pro’ly sounds dumb since we got two kids together, but it feels too soon. She needs more time.”

 

“Only her?”

 

“I dunno. Maybe both of us? I think if I asked her now I’d be afraid she’s only sayin’ yes ‘cause she thinks she’s gotta. I’m tryna not to harp on it too much or I’ll drive myself in circles. I know I ain’t askin’ her anything right now, and that’s where I’m leavin’ it. ‘Sides, I think the weirder part was hearing Merle talk about our momma. We’ve never brought her up with each other. Closest we came before this was when I told him Jojo was gonna be named after her.”

 

“You think opening up about your mom might be part of him trying to reconnect with you?”

 

“Pfft, don’t you have to have already been connected once in order to reconnect?” 

 

“Point taken,” Dr. Peterson says with a smile. “But you get what I mean?”

 

“Yeah, I get it, and maybe it is. Maybe he’s learnin’ to unload all his repressed bullshit, too. Ha, maybe I should convince him to go to therapy. Right after I get Carol to go. Fat chance on that one, though.” 

 

“She still reluctant to go?”

 

“Dunno, she ain’t mentioned it. She’s starting to worry me a bit, though, and I dunno if it’s justified or if it’s like what you said, and I’m still fucked up about what happened when she hemorrhaged.” 

 

“What’s worrying you?”

 

“Dunno, like, she’s not eating hardly at all, and the only time she leaves the house is to go to work or if me or her aunt force her to. She wears the same clothes all weekend, and she feeds and changes the babies plenty, but I definitely play with them more. Not that she’s doin’ a shitty job at parenting or nothin’, she’s great, and she says she’s just really tired and that’s why she’s acting like she is, but…” Daryl shrugs helplessly.

 

“Has her OB-GYN said anything to her about postpartum depression?” Dr. Peterson asks, and Daryl grimaces.

 

“Glenn asked the same thing. We got like, pamphlets and shit at the last couple appointments, but Carol ain’t exactly the type to admit she’s not one hundred percent in control all the time, and I think she’d take real offense at bein’ asked if parenting is making her depressed. I think she’d see it as a jab at how she is as a mother.”

 

“Still stubborn, then?”

 

“Stubborn don’t even begin to cover it.”

 

“Well, I stand by what I said about your paranoia in regards to letting Carol out of your sight, but in this instance I don’t think paying closer attention is unwarranted. Postpartum depression can be serious if it’s not treated. Has she made any comments about hurting herself? Or hurting the kids?”

 

“No,” Daryl says quickly. “She’d never.” 

 

“Depression does weird things to people,” Dr. Peterson says. “Just keep an eye out.”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Daryl says, furrowing his brow. “I will.”

 

—-

 

_ November 12th _

_ Saturday _

 

(1:29p) ~ _ dumbass sent a link _ ~

 

(1:31p) -no-

 

(1:32p) >No.<

 

(1:33p) ~so that’s a list of d&d races that you guys can choose from, and then you can pick your classes.~

 

(1:34p) >What part of “we are not playing D&D with you” are you not hearing?<

 

(1:35p) ~i have my thoughts on what you guys would be good at playing as, but i’m gonna let you pick your own. i’ll have to show you how to do character sheets. they’re confusing at first but you’ll get the hang of them.~

 

(1:36p) >Is he deaf?<

 

(1:37p) -apparently-

 

(1:38p) ~eugene has been going through my campaign with me. he says it’s good, or at least i think that’s what he said, sometimes i can’t tell what the fuck he’s talking about, but i think you guys will have a good time.~

 

(1:39p) >Jesus Christ, Daryl, derail this conversation, please.<

 

(1:40p) -how?-

 

(1:41p) >Idk, do you have anything to talk about that’s interesting enough to distract Glenn from this stupid game?<

 

(1:42p) ~you’re not going to be able to distract me.~

 

(1:43p) - _ you sent a photo _ -

 

(1:43p) -my bro gave me this when he came over-

 

(1:44p) ~did you tell him you were already taken?~

 

(1:45p) -v funny-

 

(1:45p) -he wants me 2 give it 2 carol-

 

(1:46p) >Like, as a present, or as a /ring/ ring?<

 

(1:47p) -2nd one-

 

(1:48p) ~okay, i was wrong, i’m distracted. daryl dish, are you gonna propose to carol??~

 

(1:49p) -no-

 

(1:49p) -i mean not rn-

 

(1:50p) >But sometime?<

 

(1:51p) -ajsfjlakjal?-

 

(1:51p) -we’ve nvr tlked abt it-

 

(1:51p) -n like i wna pull the we’re 2 young card but we alrdy have kids-

 

(1:51p) -kids plural-

 

(1:52p) ~would you wanna marry her someday?~

 

(1:53p) -i mean if she wanted 2 then hell yeah-

 

(1:53p) -but marriage feels way more permanent n idk if she’d wnt 2 b tied 2 me like tht-

 

(1:54p) >But you’re okay with being tied to her like that?<

 

(1:55p) -ofc-

 

(1:55p) -like if she came up 2 me 2day n said hey lets go 2 the courthouse n get married id do it in a heartbeat-

 

(1:55p) -but im not gna ask her smthn like tht n put her on the spot bc she mite say yes bc of the kids-

 

(1:56p) ~do you honestly think she’d ever leave you? or find someone else?~

 

(1:57p) -obvi i hope not but im not taking the choice from her rn esp whn shes still actin all weird-

 

(1:58p) >Does it seem like she’s getting better at all?<

 

(1:59p) -if anything shes worse-

 

(1:59p) -she didnt go 2 work yesterday n slept the whole day while the kids were @ her aunts-

 

(1:59p) -shes slpin rn n i havent seen her eat more than a few bites of food @ a time in who knows how long-

 

(2:00p) ~dude, she sounds seriously depressed, you gotta do something about that.~

 

(2:01p) -ik which is a whole other reason y i cant ask her 2 marry me anytime soon bc shes gna b pissed as all get out if i force her to go get help-

 

(2:02p) >You’ve already tried letting her work out stuff on her own terms before and clearly that didn’t work.<

 

(2:03p) ~i’m legit concerned about her, dude, a woman from my sister’s mommy group committed suicide it got so bad. it’s not just being sad, it can like, literally be fatal.~

 

(2:04p) -dnt say shit like tht carol wudnt do tht 2 me or the kids-

 

(2:06p) ~when my other sister had ppd she straight up disappeared for a whole day, leaving the baby with my brother-in-law without saying a word, and went on a 24 hour bender. she had gotten a motel and just got blackout drunk and called my brother-in-law crying at like four in the morning. and dude, my sister never drinks, never does drugs, and is a total health nut. it was completely out of character.~

 

(2:07p) -wuts ur point?-

 

(2:08p) ~my point is that she might not be in her right mind, and you guys need to talk about it sooner rather than later.~

 

(2:19p) >You still there?<

 

(2:20p) -yeah-

 

(2:21p) ~don’t freak out, it’s treatable, and maybe there’s still some chance that she’s not even depressed, but you should get her to someone who can tell you that for sure.~

 

(2:22p) -ik-

 

(2:22p) -fuck me-

 

(2:23p) >We’re here to help you with whatever you need, okay? All four of you.<

 

(2:24p) -yeah-

 

(2:24p) -jojos cryin i g2g-

 

(2:25p) ~you’ll talk to her?~

 

(2:26p) -yeah-

 

(2:26p) -i liked this convo better whn we were tlkng abt dnd-

 

—-

 

_ Hey sleepyheads, _

 

_ I can’t sleep tonight. You can though, for once. I’m sitting here watching the two of you, both out like a light. You’d never know how loud you guys can scream by looking at how sweet you are when you’re asleep haha.  _

 

_ I dunno what I even started this letter to say. I just got a lot of thoughts and worries and usually I’d tell them to you cuz you guys are good listeners but you’re asleep plus these are grown up problems that you don’t need to be thinking about. You deserve some innocence. I never got any. _

 

_ Bleh. _

 

_ Love is hard, kiddos. It should be the easiest thing in the world but instead it’s the thing that takes the most work. Loving friends that are far away, loving a brother who I don’t always trust, and loving your momma who is sometimes bad at taking care of herself...it’s hard. Worth it, but hard. _

 

_ Loving you two, though? Somehow that’s as easy as breathing.  _

 

_ I guess that shouldn’t be surprising, though, you always been the exception to the rule. _

 

_ Goodnight, sweethearts. _

 

_ Love, _

_ Dad _

 

—-

 

_ November 13th _

_ Sunday _

 

Daryl spends all of Saturday evening and most of Sunday morning thinking about how he should do what Glenn said and talk to Carol, but he can’t gather the nerve, because he knows it’s going to lead to a fight. So instead he lets her walk around the house like a zombie, taking care of all the kids’ necessities, but nothing more. She’s interacted with them less and less over the past few days, as though she’s purposely distancing herself from them, and Daryl knows it’s a glaring red flag. He  _ knows _ it, but it seems so counterintuitive to go up to someone who’s depressed and force something on them that’ll make them feel worse.

 

Around six or so, after the twins have settled in for a nap in the nursery, Daryl tells himself to stop being a pussy and goes into their bedroom where Carol is curled up in a fetal position under several blankets, holding her phone in her hand in front of her like she’s looking at something, except the screen is dark and she’s just staring blankly at it. Frankly, she’s a mess, and Daryl berates himself, wondering just how deep in denial he’s had to be to let her get to this point. 

 

“Hey,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed and putting a hand on her hip. She looks at him and gives him a smile that disappears as quickly as it appears. 

 

“Hi,” she says flatly. 

 

“You wanna watch TV or somethin’?” he asks hopefully. She shakes her head.

 

“No thanks, I’m tired, I think I might sleep.”

 

“It’s not too cold out tonight, do you wanna take Henry and the kids out for a walk in a little while? Sky’s clear, and you know how cool the stars look out here.”

 

“You can go if you want,” Carol says, letting her phone fall onto the mattress and burrowing herself deeper into the blankets. Daryl sighs.

 

“Carol,” he says quietly. “We gotta talk about this.” 

 

“About what?” she mumbles, closing her eyes. 

 

“You’re depressed,” he says. She doesn’t respond, so he adds, “Remember you promised you’d tell me if things started feeling wrong again.”

 

Daryl chews on his lower lip, waiting for her to say something, which she doesn’t for what feels like forever, and when she finally speaks it makes his heart sink.

 

“I think I need to leave,” she says.

 

“Whaddya mean?” he asks, trying to keep his voice level.

 

“I’ve been thinking about it,” she says, opening her eyes to look at him. Her face is blank. “You and the kids would be better here without me.” 

 

Daryl swallows down the bitter taste in the back of his throat as adrenaline snakes its way up his esophagus.

 

“That’s not true,” he says.

 

“You’ll be fine, baby, you’re so good with them, and I’m sure my aunt will keep babysitting, and you’re great with money, you’ll make sure you three have everything you need,” she says practically. Daryl squints, heart thumping hard in the pulse point below his chin.

 

“So, what? You’re just gonna leave us? Just like that? Where would you even go? You don’t have to stay in a relationship with me, Carol, you know that, but the twins—”

 

“No, you misunderstand,” Carol says, interrupting. “When I say I need to leave, I mean I need to  _ leave _ .” 

 

Daryl stares at her for a long moment before he puts it together, and his whole body is awash with an ice cold chill. 

 

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” he manages to say. 

 

“I know it seems like a lot now, but it’s the best choice, I promise. I’m not getting any better, and plus I probably have Huntington’s, so that’s even more for you to deal with. I love the three of you too much to keep putting you through this.” 

 

Daryl scoffs.

 

“Are you tryna make me think that you sayin’ you wanna kill yourself is for my benefit?” He shakes his head, running his hands through his hair. “No no no, this is bullshit. I shoulda never let you skip out on therapy that first time. You gotta get help. Today. Right now.”

 

Carol scoffs right back.

 

“No,” she says simply. She snakes a hand out from underneath the blankets and places it on his. He stares blankly at where she’s touching him as she tells him, “It’ll be fine.  _ You’ll _ be fine. You told me so, remember? In the hospital, you told me that you and the twins would be okay if I was gone. So let me leave.” 

 

“Absolutely not,” he tells her. She smiles sadly at him.

 

“We’ll talk about it later,” she says, as if they’ve been discussing what to make for dinner. 

 

“Carol…” Daryl starts, but he has nothing to follow it up. She squeezes his hand in a way that he thinks is supposed to be reassuring, but instead makes him nauseous. 

 

“I wanna nap,” she tells him, pulling her hand back. Daryl searches her eyes, at a complete loss. 

 

“Fine,” he says.

 

He sits and watches her wrap her arms around her pillow and get comfortable. He stares, feeling empty, until she’s fallen asleep, and some time after. 

 

Then, all at once, the magnitude of this conversation hits him, and he pops up off the bed and goes into the living room. He pulls out his phone and picks one of their numbers at random, and a few rings later Glenn is on the other line.

 

“Hey, you okay? You never call. Or is this a butt dial?” Glenn asks. 

 

“You were right,” Daryl says quietly, careful not to wake the sleeping household. “Carol’s gone fucking insane, and I don’t got a clue what to do.”

 

“Shit, what happened?”

 

“She basically just told me she’s planning on offing herself so that me and the kids don’t have to see her being depressed or some other fucked up logic. I dunno who I’m s’posed to call or what. I could call her aunt, but she’d probably make it worse ‘cause she gets real overbearing sometimes. I could ask Merle, but what the fuck is he gonna do? Dale, maybe? But he’s my fucking boss. I got  _ no one _ , dude, and the kids are gonna wake up soon, and I don’t know if Carol was just having some weird episode, or if she meant it, and—”

 

“Whoah whoah, slow down,” Glenn interrupts. “First things first, is Carol safe right now?” 

 

“Yeah, she’s asleep.”

 

“Okay, then hold tight and give me like, an hour and forty-five minutes.”

 

“What? No, it’s a Sunday, you got school tomorrow.”

 

“Shut up. I’m leaving now, and I’m gonna call Rick and see if he can come down from Atlanta.”

 

“You don’t gotta do that,” Daryl says quickly, backtracking. “It might not even be that serious, I’m pro’ly overreacting.”

 

“I’ll see you soon,” says Glenn, and he hangs up the phone before Daryl can say anything else.

 

—-

 

Daryl is sat on the stoop with Jesse napping in his car seat next to him, and Josie in his arms, staring down Henry who is laying down at Daryl’s feet, when he sees headlights heading towards them. Glenn’s car pulls up into the drive, and Henry’s barking startles Jesse awake and he starts crying. Glenn gets out of the car and comes over to where they’re all sitting.

 

“Hey,” he says quietly. “Carol still asleep?”

 

“Yeah,” Daryl says, distracted as he tries rocking Jesse’s car seat to soothe him.

 

“Want me to hold him?” Glenn asks.

 

“Would you?” Daryl says gratefully. Glenn picks up Jesse, who calms down almost immediately. 

 

“Hey birthday twin, long time no see,” Glenn says, and Jesse smiles. “Ha! You couldn’t do that last time I was here.” 

 

“You didn’t hafta come up here,” Daryl says.

 

“Yes, you’ve said.” Just then the muffled sound of the song “Fuck the Police” starts playing from Glenn’s pocket. At Daryl’s baffled expression, Glenn explains, “That’s my ringtone for Rick.” He answers his phone and Daryl listens to one side of the conversation.

 

“What’d he want?” Daryl asks once Glenn’s pocketed his phone again.

 

“He was letting me know he’s stuck behind a train at the tracks a few blocks away but will be here in a minute.” 

 

“Jesus,” Daryl says. “Seriously, you didn’t—”

 

“Hafta come. Yeah, I know. Stop saying it.”

 

Daryl concedes defeat with a sigh. 

 

“They gotta eat. You mind watchin’ them for a minute while I make up their bottles?” he asks.

 

“Go for it, we’re fine,” Glenn says, bouncing Jesse lightly in his arms. Daryl mumbles a thanks and sits Josie in Jesse’s now empty car seat. 

 

Inside, he pops his head in to make sure Carol’s still asleep, before rummaging through the kitchen to heat up a few ounces of breastmilk. He tests the temperature on the underside of his wrist and calls it good, carrying the bottles outside, where Rick has arrived and is standing next to Glenn, his hands in his pockets.

 

“Hey, brother,” he says. “How you doin’?”

 

“Awesome,” Daryl says flatly. He turns to Glenn and holds out the bottle. “Here, you wanna feed him?” 

 

“With pleasure,” says Glenn, taking the bottle and tapping Jesse’s lower lip with the nipple before he gets the hint and starts eating.

 

“So what’s going on, exactly?” Rick asks.

 

While he gets Josie settled in his arms and eating as well, Daryl relays his entire conversation with Carol a couple hours prior. 

 

“The part that was the most fucked up was how casual she was about it. Like she was proposing a business deal or some shit.” 

 

“Yeah, that part is really messed up. It sounds like it almost would have been better if she’d been freaking out and crying,” Rick agrees. “So what are we gonna do about it?” 

 

“Admit her,” Glenn says right away. 

 

“No,” Daryl says firmly. “She’d be so mad. Plus she hates the hospital. I can’t do that to her.”

 

“Would you rather her be mad or dead?” Glenn asks, making Daryl wince.

 

“ _ Glenn _ ,” Rick snaps, but Glenn doesn’t apologize.

 

“I mean it,” he says matter-of-factly. “It’s possible she was having a weird episode and doesn’t actually want to hurt herself, but when people say shit like that you take it seriously. And Daryl, no matter how much you love her, it’s just not possible for you to watch her 24/7, work, and take care of two infants. We all know that she needs professional help like, yesterday.”

 

“How would I even do that?” Daryl asks. “I can’t drag her.”

 

“Either convince her to go,” Rick says. “Or call 911. You tell them what you told us, and they’ll put her on mandatory hold.”

 

“Fuck,” Daryl mutters. He looks down at Josie who’s watching him with her bright, blue eyes. He kisses her on the forehead. “When do I gotta do it?” he asks, not looking up from his baby.

 

“No time like the present,” Glenn says. Gently, he adds, “We’ll watch Jesse and Josie. You take care of her.”

 

Daryl bites his lower lip so hard he thinks he breaks the skin. He soaks up every detail of Josie’s face, willing it to give him the confidence he needs. 

 

“Alright,” he agrees finally. “Take her?” he asks Rick, sitting the bottle aside and handing Josie over. Daryl gets to his feet and goes to kiss the top of Jesse’s head for a long moment. “Show Rick how to burp her, please,” he asks Glenn as he strokes Jesse’s hair. 

 

“Yeah, for sure,” Glenn says. He puts a hand on Daryl’s forearm and Daryl forces himself to meet his eye. “We’re right outside, dude. Whatever happens, we’re here to help.”

 

He can’t bring himself to speak, so instead he just nods and hopes they understand.

 

Daryl goes inside and walks to the bedroom. He hovers in the doorway, watching her sleep for a minute or so. He’s angry as hell at himself. If he’d called her out on therapy right away, if he’d insisted on her going back, if he hadn’t believed her when she called it baby blues…

 

None of it matters now. He takes a breath and goes to sit on the edge of the mattress, right where he’d been during their conversation earlier. He gently shakes her awake.

 

“Mm, are the babies up?” she mumbles, pushing herself up and rubbing her face, years worth of caretaking making her able to go from dead asleep to wide awake in a second. 

 

“They don’t need anything right now, sweetheart,” Daryl says. She gives him a bemused frown.

 

“What’s wrong?” she asks. Daryl reaches over to push her hair from her face.

 

“We’re goin’ to the hospital,” he tells her gently.

 

“What?” she asks. “Are you hurt? The kids?”

 

“No, we’re fine.  _ You’re _ going to the hospital.”

 

Carol’s furrowed brow turns into comprehension slowly, and once she understands, she sets her jaw.

 

“Fuck that,” she says. “I am not.”

 

“You are,” Daryl says. “You gotta. You need more help than I can give you right now, okay?”

 

“No, it’s not okay,” Carol says. He tries to reach out to her but she moves away. “You’re trying to take me to the psych ward, aren’t you?”

 

“I’m tryna help you, Carol.”

 

“I didn’t ask for help.”

 

“I know, but I’m givin’ it.”

 

“I’m  _ not _ going,” she tells him with an air of finality, but he shakes his head.

 

“C’mon. It’ll be easier for us all if you go willingly.”

 

Carol blinks.

 

“Excuse me?” she says. “You’re saying you’d force me?”

 

“I don’t want to.”

 

“But you will, right? Daryl, don’t do that to me, I don’t deserve this. Look, what I said before, we can forget about it okay, just please don’t make me go.”

 

Daryl closes his eyes for a second and blows out a breath.

 

“I have to,” he says. Carol stares him down for several beats.

 

“If you make me go,” she says pointedly. “I’ll be mad at you forever. I mean it, Daryl, I will  _ never _ forgive you. For as long as I live, I swear to God, I’ll hate you for it.”

 

Daryl looks up to the ceiling and wipes at his eyes before meeting her gaze and holding it.

 

“I’d rather you live a long life hating me than a short one loving me,” he says.

 

And just like that the argument is over; that had been Carol’s trump card. 

 

“C’mon,” Daryl tells her quietly, pulling back the blankets and taking her hand. She snatches it back and gets out of bed herself.

 

Winning, Daryl realizes, feels a lot like losing tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning for suicide ideation
> 
> ~~~
> 
> to write the latter half of this chapter i listened to the three most melancholy, depressing songs from the bojack horseman soundtrack for like, five hours straight on repeat, so i'm kind of fucked up right now. they're quality songs, tho. it's a balance.
> 
> so this chapter is kinda heavy! the moral of the story is don't wait until you have a complete mental breakdown to deal with your problems, i say, as a hypocrite.
> 
> i need to go do something to make me happy so i'm gonna go watch wonder woman on my phone in bed in the dark.
> 
> see you thursday,  
> -diz


	20. Dad Override

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> same trigger warning from last chapter

_November 14th_

_Monday_

 

Daryl is awoken by the feeling of someone jostling his shoulder and a baby crying. He almost loses his balance, realizing he’s sitting upright on the couch, his head lolling to the side. He snaps up and blinks blearily to find Glenn holding an angry Josie in his arms.

 

“Hey,” Glenn says apologetically over Josie’s screams. “I didn’t wanna wake you, but this little girl wants some food in her belly—right this second, apparently—and I didn’t wanna guess on what milk to use in your fridge.”

 

“Fuck, I didn’t mean to fall asleep, sorry,” Daryl mumbles, rubbing his eyes and then reaching out to take his daughter. Glenn hands her over, and Daryl lets her suck on his pinky finger to calm her down long enough for him to reorient himself.

 

“You needed it,” Glenn says, stepping aside to give Daryl room to stand. Daryl rolls his head to either side to try and work out some of the kinks that have formed from sleeping like a contortionist.

 

“Time is it?” he asks, heading to the kitchen, with Glenn at his heel.

 

“Quarter after five.”

 

“Where’s Rick?” Daryl pulls the fridge open with his foot. “Can you grab the milk closest to me?” he asks, gesturing with his head.

 

“He was chatting with Jesse on the floor of the nursery last I checked,” Glenn says, taking out the milk. “Show me where the stuff is and I’ll make the bottle. Tag-team it.”

 

Glenn helps Daryl heat up two bottles in silence. It’s still dark outside, making the kitchen lights seem exceptionally bright. Henry rattles around in his cage, watching them curiously with droopy eyes.

 

“Thanks,” Daryl mutters when they’ve finished, taking one of the bottles and bringing it to Josie’s mouth just in time, as she was starting to realize daddy’s finger wasn’t what she had been crying for. “You guys are gonna miss your classes, and don’t you work Mondays?”

 

“Dude, I’m tired, can you just accept that you’re worth helping out and not worry about it anymore?” Glenn asks, leaning against the counter and yawning.

 

“Pro’ly not, but I’ll try not to say anything about it,” he says, making Glenn laugh.

 

“C’mon, let’s go find the rest of the team,” Glenn says.

 

They go to the nursery where Jesse is laying on his back on the playmat, with Rick on his side half-asleep, jingling a ring of plastic, toy keys in front of the baby. Jesse’s face is enraptured, fascinated by the sounds and colors of the keys.

 

“Hey,” Daryl says. Rick looks over his shoulder and nods a hello. “Got a bottle for him, if you wanna hand him to me,” Daryl continues, going over to sit in the rocking chair in the corner. He shifts Josie to one arm to make room for her brother.

 

“One of us can feed him,” Rick says.

 

“Nah, it’s chill. I kinda wanna hold ‘em both,” Daryl says, and they don’t question him further. Rick drops the toy keys and lifts Jesse off the playmat. He helps Daryl prop Jesse up on Daryl’s thigh, with Josie situated against him in such a way that he can hold her and feed her with one hand. Glenn gives him the second bottle, and Daryl feeds both of them effortlessly at once.

 

“Impressive,” Glenn says, and Daryl casts him a brief smile before turning his attention to the babies.

 

“Hey,” he says softly.” “How you two doin’?” They’re both watching him intently with their bright blue eyes. Josie's close enough to his face that he can kiss the top of her head, her fine hair tickling his nose. He’s frustrated that he can’t reach Jesse at this angle, not without throwing off the perfect tandem-bottle feeding. “They been good?” Daryl asks his friends without taking his eyes off his babies. “I really didn’t mean to konk out.”

 

“They slept most of the time you slept,” Glenn says.

 

“Jesse got fussy a half hour or so ago, but all he wanted was a diaper change and some attention,” Rick adds.

 

“Thank you for taking care of them,” Daryl says quietly.

 

“It’s seriously no problem, dude,” says Glenn, and Rick hums in agreement. Daryl closes his eyes and sighs deeply.

 

“The fuck am I gonna do, guys?” he whispers. He keeps his eyes closed, afraid that if he opens them his emotions may get the better of him, and as comfortable as he may be with his friends, he still would prefer to keep the waterworks to a minimum.

 

“You should be getting a call from the social worker here in a few hours, right?” Glenn asks. “You'll know more once you talk with them.”

 

Once he feels like he’s regained enough composure, Daryl opens his eyes. He says nothing at first, letting Josie and Jessie finish eating. Rick and Glenn are both sat on the floor across the room, their backs against the wall, Glenn’s arms wrapped around his knees, and Rick’s legs stretched out in front of him.

 

“She wouldn’t look at me,” he says finally, setting the bottles aside and lifting Josie up to his shoulder to burp her, Jesse still balanced on his thigh. “Not on the car ride, not when we got there; it was as though she was tryna forget I exist.” Josie lets out a small burp, and Daryl mutters a soft, “Atta girl,” in her ear.

 

“She also wasn’t in her right mind,” Glenn reminds him.

 

“Before we left,” Daryl says quietly, swapping Josie with Jesse. “She said that if I forced her to go she would hate me for the rest of her life.” He kisses Jesse’s temple to make up for not being able to before.

 

“She was desperate and in the middle of a mental breakdown,” Rick says. “Everything she said last night is unreliable. She needs to get to a stable place before you can have a proper conversation with her.”

 

“She meant it,” Daryl says, shaking his head, lowering Jesse down so that the twins are side-by-side on his lap. He grabs a rag off the back of the chair and wipes spit-up off Jesse’s chin. “She had this look in her eye that just felt like she wasn’t bullshittin’, you know?”

 

“Rick’s right, Daryl, she would have said anything to get you to change your mind,” Glenn says, and Rick adds,

 

“You did the right thing, brother, she needed to go.”

 

“Then why the fuck does it feel like I betrayed her?” Daryl asks. The other two seem to realize the question is rhetorical. Daryl plays absently with the babies’ tiny feet and hands. Looking at them squirming around, his Dad Override kicks in and he whispers, so only the twins can hear, “It’ll be okay, lil’ ones, daddy will figure it all out for you, and momma will be alright. I promise.”

 

‘You’re a really good dad, Daryl,” Glenn says then. The corner of Daryl’s mouth quirks up.

 

“Gotta be,” he mutters. “These kids deserve nothin’ less.”

 

—-

 

It takes literal hours of insisting that he’ll be okay for Daryl to convince Rick and Glenn to go back to their respective homes. He can’t express the amount of gratitude he has for them, but the guilt of them putting off their responsibilities for his benefit is eating him alive.

 

“I will,” Daryl says for the thousandth time after they tell him, yet again, to update them when anything—“and we mean _anything_ ”—changes.

 

“We’ll be back next week for Thanksgiving so we’ll see you again really soon,” Rick assures him.

 

“I know. Thank you,” says Daryl.

 

“Tell the Disco Twins we love them and will be back,” Glenn says, the kids napping inside.

 

“I’ll let ‘em know,” Daryl says with a small smile.

 

“Okay,” says Glenn. “Time for a quick Team Groupchat group hug, and then we’ll go.”

 

Rick and Daryl both roll their eyes but go willingly as Glenn tugs them into an embrace.

 

“It’s gonna be alright, brother,” Rick says seriously, patting Daryl on the back once they’ve pulled apart. Daryl gives a tight smile and a nod.

 

“It will,” Glenn insists at Daryl’s hesitancy.

 

“Hope so,” Daryl says.

 

Realizing it’s the best they’re gonna get, the boys get into their cars and wave goodbye. Daryl watches from his stoop until the very last sound of tire on dirt road fades away. Once he’s certain they’re gone, he leans back against the door, slides down into a crouch, covers his face with his hands, and cries.

 

—-

 

Daryl’s phone vibrates by his ear around 11:30, startling him out of his doze on the nursery room floor. He quickly glances over at the cribs where both kids are fast asleep, before crawling out into the hallway and taking the call.

 

“Hello?” he answers quietly.

 

“May I speak with Daryl Dixon?” a man says on the other line.

 

“Yeah, I’m him.”

 

“Hi, Daryl, my name is Steve and I’m a social worker down at the hospital, and I’m calling in regards to Carol Miller. You’re the only name she provided for the release of information papers, and I was hoping we could have a quick chat.”

 

“Surprised she put me down at all,” Daryl mutters.

 

“You’re the one who brought her in, correct?”

 

“Mhm.”

 

“Well, she put you down, so I’m able to share with you what she and I have discussed, and I have a few questions for you as well. Do you have a few minutes?”

 

“Yeah, though if the kids wake up I might hafta deal with that,” Daryl says, rubbing his temple, a tension headache brewing now that he’s alone and no longer in immediate crisis mode.

 

“That’s quite alright. This shouldn’t take long. First, I want to assure you that Carol is safe, and is being monitored.”

 

“Bet she loves that,” Daryl says, and Steve gives an awkward chuckle that makes Daryl think he might have been at the receiving end of Carol’s reluctance at being on mandatory hold. The thought brings Daryl a shred of comfort—if Carol is capable of making authority figures feel uncomfortable then she must not be completely gone.

 

“She’s not been hesitant to voice her displeasure with the situation,” Steve says, confirming Daryl’s suspicions. “I did sit down with her at length, however, and we discussed what all has been going on, and why you felt the need to bring her here last night.”

 

“What’d she say?”

 

“There’s still a lot anger there at the decision,” Steve says, which Daryl deciphers as therapist lingo for, ‘she still hates your guts for this.’ “That being said, she was transparent with me about having suicidal thoughts, and having a plan to carry it out.”

 

Daryl winces. She had a _plan_?

 

“Is she still feelin’ that way?” he manages to ask.

 

“She told me that while she knows objectively that it’s not what she should be thinking, a part of her feels like it’s the most practical solution to her problems.”

 

“‘Kay,” Daryl mutters, picking fuzz off his shirt.

 

“She is coming around to the idea of trying out some medication. She has also been encouraged to attend our support groups throughout the day.”

 

“Did she tell you to sick your support groups up your ass?” Daryl asks.

 

“Um, well, that’s essentially what she said verbatim, yes,” Steve says, and Daryl snorts.

 

“I been tryna get her to go to therapy for a year, and we got two kids together. Doubt it’ll be easy for y’all to walk in there as strangers and convince her to go.”

 

“That actually leads nicely into some of the things I’d like to ask you. How long would you say these behaviors have been going on?”

 

“Uh, which ones?”

 

“Has she ever voiced thoughts of suicide to you before?”

 

“Nah, not like that. Jokes and stuff, but nothin’ I ever thought to take seriously.”

 

“And were there any warning signs leading up to the incident that happened last night?”

 

“I mean, yeah. She never really fully snapped back to normal after havin’ the babies in September. She hasn’t been eatin’ much, don’t talk to me as much, and the past week or so she’s really been distancing herself from the kids.” Daryl hates himself with every word, because once he says them he realizes how goddamn obvious her problems were, and he’d ignored every red flag because it was easier than thinking she wasn’t okay.

 

“How about before she gave birth? Any history with depression that you know of?”

 

“Her shit’s always been fucked up, if that’s what you mean. She’s been through a lot. I think this was just it finally all comin’ to a head, y’know?”

 

“Alright. Well here’s where we go from here. She is going to be evaluated by the psychiatrist, and after that we should have a better idea of how long we’re going to hold her for. You can call for information whenever you’d like, and we’ll try to keep you in the loop the best we can.”

 

“‘Kay. Um...am I allowed, or like, is _she_ allowed to talk to me?”

 

“She doesn’t have access to her cell phone while she’s in the unit, but if you call the nurses’ station in the mental health department they can direct your call. Visiting hours are from eight to eight daily.”

 

“‘Kay, then can you, just if you see her, pass the message that I ain’t gonna call her today in case she wants the space, but that I’d like it if she called me? But that I’ll understand if she don’t want to. I just need her to know that I’m here worryin’ about her.”

 

“I’ll try and pass that along,” Steve says kindly. “Any other questions?”

 

Only about a million.

 

“Nah.”

 

“Alright, then we’ll be in touch. Have a good rest of your day.”

 

Not fucking likely, Daryl thinks, and he hangs up the phone.

 

—-

 

Daryl had taken the morning off of work, but he has an appointment with a Chevy Impala’s failing transmission that he shouldn’t cancel. He texted Carol’s aunt earlier that she didn’t need to babysit today—although he didn’t say why—and while he’s sure he could message her and let her know plans have changed, he doesn’t want to be away from his kids today.

 

So the babies are going to the shop with him.

 

“Work with me here, darlin’,” Daryl says to Josie, who screams bloody murder as he dresses her. “It’s cold out today, and I ain’t lettin’ you freeze. Look, your brother’s chill with it. Promise it ain’t the end of the world.”

 

Josie cries when she wants food, needs a diaper change, and, as they’ve recently learned, when she has to wear pants.

 

“Ain’t our day shitty enough us as is, Jojo?” he asks once he’s wrestled a pair of tiny infant leggings onto her daughter. She scowls at him as he places her in her car seat. “C’mon, sweetheart, I don’t need you pissed at me, too.” He wipes a tear off her cheek and feels stupid for being genuinely slighted by his daughter’s discontent over pants with cartoon snowmen on them.

 

“You know it used to take me, like, five minutes to get ready for work?” Daryl asks the twins after he’s gotten them both dressed, buckled in, gotten everything packed in the diaper bag, and has them secured in the backseat of the van. He is emotionally and physically exhausted, his tension headache morphing into a full-blown migraine that’s pounding behind his eyes. His phone has been frustratingly silent since the social worker’s call. He knows it’s foolish to think she might call, but he’s still hoping with each passing second that she’ll reach out to him.

 

He catches the attention of Oscar and Axel when he pulls into the shop’s parking lot and gets out to start unbuckling the babies.

 

“Hey, I didn’t know it was Bring Your Kid to Work Day,” Oscar yells over, wiping his hands down with a greasy rag. He and Axel stand at the entrance of the garage, waiting as Daryl shoulders the diaper bag and lifts out the car seats, carrying one in either hand.

 

“Babysitter’s out for the day, and Carol couldn’t take ‘em,” Daryl mutters, sitting the babies down so his coworkers can see them properly. They’ve only ever seen photos—Daryl had never been keen on having them over to the house, and up until now, he hadn’t particularly wanted the twins at the shop.

 

“Take a looky here,” Axel says, squatting down in front of the twins. “Guessin’ the one with the purple blanket is Josie, and green blanket is Jesse?”

 

“Mhm,” Daryl mutters. Usually he’d be ecstatic to have people fawning over his children, but right now he can feel his pulse throbbing in his temple, and all he wants to do is get his work done and go back home. “Did that dude drop off the Impala?”

 

“Yeah, it’s already all set up for you.”

 

“‘Kay,” Daryl says, going to pick up the twins.

 

“They gonna help you fix the transmission?” Axel asks with an eyebrow raise.

 

“Yeah, should we ask Dale to put ‘em on the payroll?” Oscar adds.

 

“They’ll be fine,” Daryl says flatly. "I’ll sit ‘em up over away from anything dangerous and hopefully they’ll nap.”

 

“In the garage? It’s loud is shit in here,” Axel reminds him, and Daryl twists his mouth.

 

“I’ll figure it out,” he mumbles, and carries the twins inside.

 

There’s a safe spot that’s close enough to Daryl’s workstation that he’ll be able to keep an eye on them, and he sits them down there. Jesse is on the brink of sleep, and Josie is content to examine her new surroundings, so Daryl let’s them be for now, getting to work on the Impala. He’s about five seconds into it when Josie starts crying.

 

Sighing, Daryl drops his tools and wipes his hands on his pants. He goes over to check on his daughter, and when he lifts her up to see if she needs a diaper change, he sees she’s had a blowout that’s spread all over her pants. Daryl huffs out a big breath of air and lowers himself to the ground with her held out in front of him.

 

He rummages inside the diaper bag for the changing pad, trying not to get baby shit on himself. He lays the pad down on the ground, placing a blanket at the top as extra padding for her head, and cleans Josie up, fully aware of his coworkers watching and snickering at him from across the garage.

 

“You did this so you wouldn’t hafta wear them pants, didn’tcha?” he asks Josie, who’s kicking her legs, making the job that much harder. “Sucks for you, I brought a second pair.”

 

Josie pitches a fit at being forced into yet another pair of pants. Daryl lays her back down in her car seat and wraps her mess up in a disposable plastic bag. He sits it to the side to deal with later, washes his hands off with a baby wipe, and goes back over to the Impala.

 

He gets as far as dismantling a few car parts, when someone drops something heavy, and a loud clanging sounds throughout the garage, startling Jesse awake. Frightened and thinking he’s alone in a strange place, he starts to sob, and Daryl swears internally, once again sitting his work aside, this time to check on his son.

 

“C’mere,” he mutters, picking him up and holding him to his chest, his hand cupping the back of Jesse’s head. He bounces him gently and whispers, “Give daddy a break today, huh? Take a long nap for me and I promise you can scream and cry as much as you want when we get home.”

 

It takes him five minutes to calm Jesse down, and another ten to rock him to sleep. Daryl places Jesse back into the seat with the amount of care he’d use if he were defusing a bomb. He takes a step back and waits for the explosion, but both kids are sleeping soundly. With a relieved sigh, he gets back to work.

 

The peace is short lived.

 

Much too soon, Jesse realizes that he’s no longer being held, and his crying wakes up Josie, who realizes she’s hungry. Daryl tries not to pull out his own hair.

 

He’s back over by the twins, getting out the pre-made bottles from the portable cooler and trying to think how best to go about heating them up, when the door to Dale’s office opens down the way, and Dale peeks his head out with a bemused frown. He spots Daryl and the twins and his brows fly up to his hairline.

 

“Thought I might be losing my mind,” he says, walking towards them. “Kept hearing babies crying.”

 

“Sorry,” Daryl says over Josie’s and Jesse’s screams. “Didn’t have a sitter today and I promised I’d have the Impala done by five.”

 

“That’s very noble of you, but it looks like you could use a hand. Need me to keep an eye on them in my office for a bit?” Dale asks.

 

“Nah, it’s fine,” Daryl says quickly, mortified at the thought of needing his boss to watch his kids so he can do his damn job. He should have left them with Carol’s aunt, but he simply couldn’t bring himself to have them be that far away—not with Carol stuck in a hospital not talking to him.

 

“Son,” Dale says kindly but firmly. “If we do this your way you’re not going to be done with that car until midnight. I’m just doing my books, and I could use a break. Let me help you out. I haven’t even gotten to meet them yet.”

 

It takes fighting every ounce of his dignity for Daryl to concede to the fact that he’s never gonna get his work done if he doesn’t accept the help.

 

“It shouldn’t take me that long,” Daryl says.

 

“Take all the time you need. I’d rather you do the job well than rush it and screw it up,” says Dale.

 

“Right. Um. They pro’ly need to eat. Can you gimme a sec to heat up these bottles?” Daryl asks, growing red in the cheeks.

 

“Of course.”

 

“I’ll be right back.”

 

“Not a problem.”

 

“They might keep cryin’ ‘til I get back.”

 

“Then you better go. You can’t come back if you don’t leave.”

 

“Right,” Daryl mumbles.

 

He goes out into the front lobby area where they keep coffee and a hot water dispenser for the customers to use, and fills two styrofoam cups halfway and sits the bottles in either one. He waits until they’re just barely warm enough, anxious standing there knowing Dale’s stuck with his crying babies, and calls it good.

 

Back in the garage, Daryl hands Dale the bottles and, carrying the car seats, follows him to his office.

 

“Sure this is okay?” Daryl asks, chewing his bottom lip.

 

“I haven’t been able to hold a baby since my niece had her son last year, not to mention I’ve been itchin’ to meet these two for what feels like an age. You go on now, we’ll be just fine.”

 

Daryl cracks his knuckles, still uncertain. Finally, he leans down to kiss both of his screaming babies on the forehead. “Behave yourselves,” he says to them, before muttering a thanks to Dale and getting back to work for the thousandth time.

 

Unsurprisingly, it goes much faster without the twins interrupting every few minutes, but Daryl would be lying if he said he wasn’t uncomfortable without them in his sight. Not that he doesn’t trust Dale implicitly, but today is just _not the day_ for his babies to be anywhere but in his arms.

 

He finishes up his work as fast as he can without compromising quality, and gets himself cleaned up. Back in Dale’s office, he finds Dale with his legs propped up on his desk, deep in conversation with the twins, whom he has in either arm. Jesse and Josie are both rapt with attention, listening to what sounds like a long anecdote about a fishing trip Dale once went on. Daryl can’t help but smile a little.

 

“I can take ‘em off your hands now,” he says from the doorway. Dale looks up mid-sentence and frowns.

 

“I was just getting to the good part,” he says, and Daryl huffs a laugh.

 

“Gotta save some for the next time you see ‘em, right? he says, coming over and taking the twin nearest him—who happens to be Jesse—from Dale. He buries his face in Jesse’s hair and breathes in that baby smell that soothes him instantly.

 

“Hey. You alright, son?” Dale asks, never missing a trick. Daryl presses Jesse flush against him and rubs his back.

 

“No,” Daryl says quietly after a beat.

 

“You wanna talk about it?” Dale asks.

 

“No.”

 

“Okay,” Dale says. “You know you can, though, right?” Daryl nods and Dale doesn’t push him further. Instead, he helps Daryl get the twins buckled back in, and tells him to call if he needs to adjust his schedule ‘if the babysitter cancels again.’

 

Daryl thanks him, the words falling flat compared to how grateful he is, and he leaves the shop without stopping to say goodbye to anyone else.

 

Back at home, Daryl works on autopilot, letting caring for the twins and the dog overshadow all the feelings trying to burst out of him.

 

Dad Override.

 

He lays the kids down in the nursery around ten and goes to his room to try and get some sleep before their next feeding, but he stops short when he sees the bed and realizes he’s going to have to lay in it alone. He can’t look at their crappy, second hand mattress without replaying last night’s conversations over and over. He clamps his eyes shut and gives his head a shake, as though hoping the thoughts will tumble right out his ears. He then snatches the top cover off the bed, as well as a pillow, and goes into the nursery, where he makes himself a little spot in the corner.

 

(10:18p) -kids r aslp so i got nthn 2 distract me from the fact tht everything is bullshit rn-

 

(10:21p) ~still no word?~

 

(10:22p) -none-

 

(10:23p) >Maybe the social worker didn’t pass the message?<

 

(10:24p) ~or maybe she really does just need time.~

 

(10:25p) -idk-

 

(10:25p) -mb-

 

(10:25p) -side note id b a fukin awful single parent i cudnt handle them @ work @ all n dale ended up takin them so i cud do my damn job-

 

(10:26p) ~you took them to the shop with you?~

 

(10:26p) >Daryl, you work a hands on job, of course it was hard. That doesn’t mean you’d be a bad single parent.<

 

(10:27p) ~which doesn’t even matter in the first place, because you /aren’t/ a single parent.<

 

(10:28p) -ig-

 

(10:30p) -i dnt wnt 2 lose her u guys-

 

(10:31p) >You won’t.<

 

(10:32p) ~she’ll get the help she needs and she’ll be bacterial meningitis before you know it.~

 

(10:33p) -lol-

 

(10:33p) -thnx glenn-

 

(10:34p) ~sigh.~

 

(10:34p) ~anytime.~

 

—-

 

_November 15th_

_Tuesday_

 

Dropping the twins off at Carol’s aunt’s house hurts like taking an arm off, even though he knows he’ll be back for them before it’s even all the way dark out.

 

“I sent a text to Carol yesterday and she never replied,” Carol’s aunt says as Daryl hands over the kids. “Is she alright?”

 

“Her phone’s been actin’ up,” Daryl mutters. “I’ll let her know you’re tryna get in touch with her.”

 

“Thank you,” she says, and then, in an intolerable, high-pitched voice, she says to the twins, “Tell daddy bye-bye! Say have a good day at work!”

 

Josie sucks on her pacifier with an unimpressed expression, and Jesse yawns.

 

“Love you,” Daryl says to them softly. “See you tonight.” He waves goodbye and drives to work.

 

He spends the first few hours of the day debating whether or not he’s going to go to therapy. It feels like he’s trying to find the justification to skip a class. He feels too emotionally compromised for therapy, but then, isn’t that the best time to go?

 

Eventually, he can no longer shake the hypocrisy of forcing Carol into the psych ward and then not tending to his own mental health, so when the time comes, he leaves work reluctantly to make it to his appointment.

 

It’s grey and cold out today, which he loathes. The temperature is too low for rain, but too high for snow, so the sky is spitting sleet, making walking around a sloshy, wet mess. When he arrives, Daryl trudges through it, and doesn’t bother wiping his feet on the doormat, tracking muddy slush up to Jamie the Receptionist’s desk.

 

Wordlessly, and with her usual amount of disdain for him, she hands him his paperwork that he can recall doing exactly once in all the time he’s been coming to therapy. He goes to grab it and head to the waiting room, when he stops in his tracks, realizing he’s in no mood to talk to Soccer Mom, and doubts he can summon the enthusiasm to entertain Ryan. Instead of facing them, he slides over to the edge of Jamie’s desk so he’s not taking up all her space, and starts marking things on his paperwork.

 

“What are you doing?” she asks him, eyes narrowed.

 

“Fillin’ this out,” Daryl mutters.

 

“Why?” she asks. He glances up at her with a raised eyebrow.

 

“I’m s’posed to ain’t I?” he asks. Jamie opens her mouth like she’s about to say something, but appears to think better of it, waving a hand for Daryl to get on with it.

 

He doesn’t bother reading the questions; just circles things at random. Once he’s done, he scribbles his name at the top, writes the date wrong, crosses it out, rewrites it correctly, and then hands it to Jamie.

 

“Uh...thanks,” she says, brows knit together. “I’ll enter this in the database. If you wanna go wait in the—” but Daryl interrupts her.

 

“Doc’s right there,” he says, relieved, seeing Dr. Peterson coming down the hall. “Bye.” He leaves Jamie without waiting for her response, meeting Dr. Peterson halfway.

 

“Saved me a few steps,” she says brightly. Daryl grunts and says nothing else on the short walk to her office.

 

Once inside, Daryl regards the black armchair and realizes he has way too much pent up anxiety to sit still. Instead of sitting down in it, he goes around and leans on the back.

 

“Switching it up today?” Dr. Peterson asks mildly, taking her usual spot.

 

“Sure,” Daryl mumbles. Dr. Peterson gives him a once over and frowns.

 

“Everything alright?” she asks. Daryl heaves out an audible sigh, and ducks his head, giving it a shake.

 

“No,” he says, muffled.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

 

Of course he doesn’t, but what the hell, right? He lifts up his head and begins,

 

“You and Glenn was right, Carol’s got postpartum depression real bad, ‘cept I didn’t wanna believe it, so Sunday she’s laying there in bed and she tells me she’s gonna kill herself—so damn casual you’d think she’d been talkin’ about the weather—and I didn’t know what to do, so Glenn and Rick dropped everything in their lives to come to my pathetic rescue, and I ended up doin’ the worst thing I coulda done to her, and that was gettin’ her locked up in the hospital.”

 

“Was she put on mandatory—” Dr. Peterson starts, but Daryl isn’t finished yet.

 

“My girl, she hates two things in this world without exception, and that’s French and hospitals, ‘cept now I’m on that list too, ‘cause I fuckin’ betrayed her trust and forced her to go to the hospital. Can you imagine? Bein’ literally locked up in the place you hate the most? I even threatened to call 911 on her, Doc, that’s how serious this shit was. And she looked me dead in the eye and told me she’d never forgive me. But what choice did I have, huh?”

 

Dr. Peterson opens her mouth to reply, but Daryl blazes on through.

 

“The social worker at the psych ward, he called me up and told me she’d had a _plan_ on how she was gonna off herself, and I can’t stop wonderin’ what she was gonna do. What if it had been somethin’ I woulda walked in on? Comin’ home to find her, completely unaware that she’d even been feelin’ that way? How’s that fair to me?

 

“I can’t catch no breaks, it’s always somethin’, right? All I want, the only goddamn thing I ask for, is to have my family be happy and healthy. I wanna love my girl and not be afraid that every time I turn my back she’s gonna disappear. I wanna stop seeing her in my head on fire, or bleeding out on an operating table, or takin’ a handful of pills.

 

“I wanna be able to trust my brother enough that if shit goes sideways I have someone in town to call. I wanna not expect him to pick up a pipe every time I hang up the phone.

 

“I want fuckin’ parents who fuckin’ _love_ me, and realize I’m a goddamn _kid_ , tryna make a life worth livin’ for my own kids, and to realize sometimes I need _help_.

 

“But I ain’t got none of that shit, and how’s that fair to me?” Daryl starts pacing around the room. “I ain’t askin’ for much, I ain’t never been greedy, so seriously, how is this fair to me?”

 

He’s so tired. He hasn’t properly slept in days, and his headache from yesterday hasn’t waned at all. He wants to hold his kids. He wants to kiss Carol and have her tell him she’s going to get better. He wants his anxiety to cool down, because right now he’s shaking head-to-toe with adrenaline, mixed with something he thinks might be anger. Without thinking, he picks up the pen holder off Dr. Peterson’s desk and chucks it at the wall, pens and pencils falling to the floor in a clatter. Dr. Peterson lets him do it, and barely blinks when all but shouts,

 

“How the _fuck_ is any of this fair to me?”

 

He goes to the ground in what can only be described as a controlled fall, and then folds into himself, head tucked, arms wrapped around his knees, as uncontrollable sobs overtake him.

 

He can’t remember the last time he cried like this. Not since he was little—his daddy always beat him extra for crying, so when he does all it usually amounts to is a few sniffles and a few tears, nothing more.

 

This is a proper cry, though. This is a cry that’s gonna leave him feeling hungover when it’s done. His head pounds harder as his sinuses clog, and he’s breathing hot, wet breath out of his mouth because he can’t breathe through his nose. Every sob feels like he’s gasping for air, his lungs aching. He digs his nails into the denim of his jeans and does the only thing he can do, which is let it run its course.

 

Eventually, the sobs turn to hiccups, which turn to long, ragged breaths. He gives it a few minutes before finally hazarding a glance up at Dr. Peterson. She’s watching him patiently, face neutral. Wordlessly, she holds out a box of tissues, and he takes a few in his hand.

 

“Sorry I threw your pen thing,” he mutters. Dr. Peterson smiles.

 

“I think we might wanna unpack some of that,” she says, and Daryl snorts.

 

“‘Kay,” he says, wiping his eyes with a tissue.

 

“Why don’t you come sit over here?”

 

He hesitates a moment, before pushing himself up and going to his chair. He curls up on it, his chin resting on his knees. He feels remarkably young, like he’s just a child wanting to be comforted.

 

“Alright,” Dr. Peterson says. “Let’s go back a few steps. Tell me again what happened Sunday?”

 

And Daryl takes it from the top.

 

—-

 

After therapy, Daryl stops at the store and buys the cheapest frozen thing he can find and presses it to his face in his car, trying to bring down some of the swelling in his face. It doesn’t do much to make it less obvious that he’s been crying. He’s flush and congested, and decides to say fuck it, and spends the rest of his work day avoiding eye contact with anyone the best that he can. He figures if anyone notices they at least know better than to say a word about it.

 

When five o’clock rolls around he gets ready to go pick up the twins, but he hesitates in the parking lot, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. After a long mental debate, he pulls out his phone and dials Carol’s aunt’s number.

 

“Hey, can you watch them for a little while longer? I got an errand I gotta do,” he asks her when she answers.

 

“We’re just fine over here. Take your time,” she says, and he mutters a thanks, hanging up and throwing his car into drive before he loses his nerve.

 

His stomach is queasy the whole drive to the hospital. This might be the worst idea possible, but he can’t keep sitting around doing nothing. He follows the arrows that lead him to the mental health building, and parks outside. He only delays for a few minutes before forcing himself to go in. He follows more signs that lead him through several turns and doors, until he reaches what appears to be the nurses' station.

 

“Can I help you?” asks the nurse staffing the desk.

 

“I was wonderin’ if I could go see Carol Miller,” he says, staring just adjacent to her, not able to make eye contact.

 

“Let me see,” says the nurse, typing something into her computer. “Okay, she’s in room 322. If you could sign your name on this sheet right here, with the time you arrived, then you’re free to go visit with her.” The nurse smiles brightly at him, sliding a clipboard with a check-in sheet on it. While he writes his name, she asks, “Are you bringing anything to her? If so we’ll need to do a quick search.”

 

“Nah,” Daryl says, pushing the clipboard back to her.

 

“Okay, then go on ahead. It’s right up that hall.” She points to the right, and Daryl nods a thanks to her before heading down it.

 

Her room is towards the end, and she has the curtains drawn, blocking his view through the glass door. He clears his throat before knocking three times in quick succession before he loses his nerve.

 

“Come in,” she says from inside. He swallows hard. He pushes the door and steps inside.

 

The room is blank. That’s the best way he can describe it. There are no sharp edges, no pictures on the wall, no color. There’s a TV that’s turned off in the upper lefthand corner, and a bed in the middle of the room, the top pushed against the wall. She’s not in it. She’s sitting with her knees drawn to her chest on a little nook area by a window. She’s staring out of it, looking forlorn in a pair of scrubs one size too big for her. She glances over her shoulder, and freezes when she realizes her visitor is him.

 

“Um,” Daryl says, stuffing his hands in his pockets and grimacing. “Hey?”

 

Carol blinks at him, searching his face. After what feels like an eternity, she says,

 

“Hey.”

 

Daryl glances over at the singular chair in the room.

 

“Do you care if I...can I sit?” he asks, and she nods wordlessly. He clicks his tongue a few times before going over and taking a seat. An awkward silence falls over them.

 

“Where are the kids?” she asks finally.

 

“Your aunt’s. Didn’t think I should bring ‘em.”

 

“That’s okay,” Carol says, but she casts her eyes down with a frown.

 

“They’re doin’ fine, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

 

“I know. I just miss them is all.”

 

“Oh,” Daryl says. He picks at a cuticle. “They uh, treatin’ you decent in here?”

 

“They’re fine,” she says with a shrug.

 

“How’s the anxiety? About bein’ in here, I mean?” He can’t look at her when he says it, knowing he’s the reason she’s locked up.

 

“They give me Xanax whenever it acts up, so…” She shrugs again. “They got a lot of good drugs here, actually. Might make this my vacation home. Or maybe just my home, if they never let me out.”

 

Daryl flinches.

 

“Listen, I’m real sorry that I—”

 

“Stop,” Carol interrupts. He glances up at her, and she’s shaking her head. “Don’t apologize. I get why you did it. I would have done the same.”

 

Daryl searches her face for a long time.

 

“Been feelin’ like I betrayed you since the second I drove you here. I get it if you don’t forgive me. If you can’t never forgive me.”

 

“Oh Daryl,” Carol sighs, squeezing her eyes shut for a second. When she opens them, they’re bright. “I didn’t mean that. I’m so sorry I said that to you. I don’t hate you; I never could.”

 

“I did it ‘cause I love you,” he says.

 

“I know,” she says. “I love you, too.”

 

At least ten pounds of the twenty pound weight resting on his chest lifts, and he breathes a sigh of relief.

 

“What are the doc’s sayin’?” he asks after he’s composed himself.

 

“They’re starting me on a low dose of an antidepressant, and wanna watch me for a couple days to make sure that it doesn’t make my thoughts worse.”

 

“Are you...are you still havin’ thoughts like that?” Daryl asks, frowning at his lap.

 

“...Yeah,” Carol says quietly, and Daryl cringes. “But they’re more just thoughts now, rather than plans. Like I know that I shouldn’t do it, you know? So they’re just in the background. But Daryl, look at me.” He does. “I’m gonna try to get better, okay? For real this time.”

 

“You’ve said that before,” he says.

 

“I know, but this time I’m committed to it. I even went to a support group earlier.”

 

Daryl raises his eyebrows.

 

“Seriously?”

 

“Yeah. It fuckin’ sucked and I hated it, but I went,” and she smiles a little when Daryl snorts. “I’m gonna stop bein’ like this. It’s not gonna be easy, though, it’ll take some time.”

 

“You don’t have to stop just like that, Carol,” Daryl says. “If you have bad days, that’s fine, if you have bad weeks, that’s fine, but just don’t lie to me about it. Let me _help_ you. Please don’t cut me out. I don’t wanna ever have to do it this way again. It hurt us both too much.”

 

“Okay,” Carol says softly. “I will. We’ll work out a plan. You can go with me to therapy and make sure I’m actually going if you want, and we can check in with the doctors, and do whatever the psychiatrist says. We’ll sort it out.”

 

“We will,” Daryl agrees. “But we’re not gonna worry about it right this second. I dunno about you, but I’ve been worried plenty the past couple days.”

 

“I mean, I’ve been on Xanax, so I’ve been pretty chill, but…”

 

Daryl smiles. Carol swings her legs off the side of the nook and walks over to him. She steps in between his legs and cups his face in her hands.

 

“I’m _so_ sorry,” she breathes. He shakes his head.

 

“Don’t be,” he says, and if he hadn’t spent all his tears in therapy earlier, he swears he would start sobbing as she kisses him. He wasn’t sure she ever would again.

 

“When do you have to get the babies?” she asks him, resting her forehead against his.

 

“I got a little while yet.”

 

“Will you lay with me, then? For just a few minutes?”

 

Daryl doesn’t even bother answering. He gets to his feet and leads her over to the tiny bed. They have to cram themselves onto it, but that’s even better, because he wants to hold as much of her as he can. He wraps her tight against him, never wanting to let go.

 

“We’re just gonna go forward from here, baby,” he whispers, placing a soft kiss just below her ear. “Wherever that takes us.”

 

“We’ll go there together?”

 

“Pfft,” Daryl says. “Like I’d ever let you go alone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think i'm gonna change my posting schedule to "sunday and thursday/friday" because my thursday nights are sometimes super exhausting and it's easier to finish in the morning. which is to say, sorry this is a little late. let's just implement that from now on.
> 
> i wanted this up before work, but i'm not confident in my editing, so i'm gonna comb through it later. but if you read it before then and there are some stupid typos, then just call me glenn and forgive me. 
> 
> see you sunday, babes,
> 
> -diz


	21. Positivity Journal

_Double J,_

 

_Things are a little rough right now. It’s nothing we won’t get through cuz we’re all tough as nails but I’ve been feeling sad for a few days. And scared. And even a little mad. It’s not super easy for me to talk about my emotions even to you and I can tell you two everything, but what I’ve been learning is that it’s important to try. I don’t want you two to keep things a secret from me or your mom if you’re not doing so hot. It’s ok to not be ok and there’s nothing you could feel or do that we won’t help you with or forgive or whatever you need. (Your mom and me had you when we were still kids so who are we to judge right?) I just hope you know that no matter what I’m doing I will drop it in an instant for you if you need me. Always._

 

_Anyways. You wanna know what has been cheering me up since I’ve been feeling down? Here I’ll write you a list:_

 

 

  * _The way you both smile whenever you wake up from a nap and see my face like you’re always happy to see me_


  * _When you both fall asleep on me and I feel like I’m protecting you from the world in my arms_


  * _How every day you seem a little smarter like you’re always learning new stuff_


  * _Holding your tiny hands in mine and thinking about how I helped make them_


  * _Being able to give you kisses and tell you I love you_


  * _How safe I feel when I know you’re nearby_


  * _That moment when I finally get to see you after I’ve been at work all day_


  * _Most of all when I’m sad I just remind myself that you’re mind and that crazy high feeling I get every single dang time I think about that makes things not hurt so bad for a while_



 

 

_Sometimes the world just straight up sucks lil ones, but even when it’s at its worst you two just existing makes everything a little brighter, cuz how bad can the world be if you’re in it?_

 

_Love you til the Earth stops movin’ and even after that,_

_Dad_

 

—-

 

_November 16th_

_Wednesday_

 

“Alright, babes, give daddy a second to remember how the fuck this thing works,” Daryl says. He’s in the hospital parking lot, getting ready to go see Carol again, and he’s wrestling with a weird piece of cloth that’s supposed to function as a baby wrap. At the moment he’s got one arm stuck through the wrong loop, and he’s pretty sure part of it is tangled.

 

(He finally told her aunt the CliffsNotes version of what’s been going on, but neglected to tell her there were visiting hours, for Carol’s sake.)

 

“Okay, I think I got this figured out,” he says after a few more minutes of knotting himself up in the cloth. “One at a time now.”

 

He reaches over Josie to unbuckle Jesse from the middle seat. He scoops him up and then tucks him into one pocket of the baby wrap. Once Jesse’s in, Daryl gets Josie and squeezes her into the other side. He pulls the wrap tighter so everyone’s nice and secured, the twins held tight against his chest.

 

“You guys keep puttin’ on weight like you have been and one of you is gonna hafta start riding on my back, and I dunno if I can figure out how to do that,” Daryl tells them, planting kisses on the tops of their heads. “Ready to go see your momma, huh? She told me she’s been missin’ you, and I bet you miss her, too.” He grabs the diaper bag and slings it over his shoulder, feeling a bit like a pack mule, except with better cargo.

 

On his way to Carol’s ward, Daryl’s stopped by an elderly woman in the hallway. She says, “Oh my goodness, now isn’t that just precious.” She puts a hand on Daryl’s arm, and with a wink she adds, “There’s nothing more attractive than a big, strong man who’s not too proud to hold a baby. Or two.”

 

“...Okay,” Daryl says, his cheeks growing hot. The woman gives him a suggestive wink before continuing on down the hall. Daryl blinks a few times before he gets going again, thankfully in the opposite direction.

 

“You brought an entourage today!” says the nurse at the station once he reaches the ward. She’s the same one from yesterday. “Aren’t you cute? Susan, c’mere and look at this,” she says over her shoulder. Another nurse appears and puts a hand to her heart at the sight of Daryl and the twins.

 

“Now that’s a real man right there,” the nurse—Susan?—says. “My ex never would’ve worn a baby.”

 

“Your ex never would have worn anything but a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt,” says receptionist nurse. “Especially not a baby. Or even a wedding ring.”

 

“ _Holly_ ,” Susan says with a scoff, smacking her on the arm while Holly laughs.

 

“Uh. Can I see Carol Miller?” Daryl mutters, wanting to sink into the floor.

 

“Sure thing, hon,” Holly says. She passes him the sign-in paper, asks if he’s bringing in anything for Carol that they need to search, and mercifully lets him go.

 

“See, this is why we don’t leave the house that often,” Daryl whispers to the twins as he makes his way down the hall. He stops at Carol’s door and knocks, less nervous than yesterday but still a little tentative.

 

“Come in,” she says, and he pushes their way inside.

 

She’s sitting on the bed with her back to the wall, leafing through a book, when she looks up and sees them standing in the doorway. She makes an, “oh!” sound and tosses her book aside haphazardly as she throws her legs over the side and stands up.

 

“Brought a couple people who wanted to see you,” Daryl says with a soft smile.

 

“My babies,” Carol says, peppering the twins with kisses. She looks up at Daryl with wide eyes and asks, “Will you let me hold them?”

 

“‘Course,” Daryl says with a furrowed brow. “Why wouldn’t I?”

 

“Nothing, never mind,” Carol says with a dismissive wave. Daryl loosens the wrap so Carol can pull one of the twins out. She sits on the edge of the bed and waits for Daryl to free the other one and help her position them both in her arms.

 

“Look who it is,” Daryl says to the twins. Josie fusses a little to voice her annoyance at being jostled around.

 

“Shh, shh, baby, mommy’s here,” Carol whispers, and Josie settles down at the sound of her voice. “Mommy’s here and she is _so_ sorry that she left you.” She looks from one twin to the other like she can’t figure out which one to rest her gaze on, which Daryl relates to because he often faces the same dilemma.

 

“We need Glenn to get that weird gender studies degree and then come here and teach hypomasculinity to all the guys in town.”

 

“ _Hype_ rmasculinity, and you want them taught against it, not for it,” Carol says, not bothering to suppress her her grin. “Why do you want him to do that?”

 

“‘Cause apparently me holdin’ my own kids is a goddamn marvel and it makes people talk to me and this one lady winked at me.”

 

“Winked at you, huh? Should I be jealous?”

 

“She was like, seventy.”

 

“Hey, I mean, if she’s keeping it tight.” She glances up at him and they both crack up. Her laughter is the sweetest sound.

 

“You seem like you’re feelin’ a lil’ better. Are you?” he asks. Carol’s smile fades a little as she tilts her head in thought.

 

“Yes and no?” she says. “Mostly yes?”

 

“How do you mean?” Daryl asks. He sits the diaper bag on the floor, pulls up the chair, and sits on it backwards in front of her.

 

“It’s like…” she starts, playing absently with Jesse’s hand. “Hmm. Okay, it’s like this. For the past couple months I’ve been stuck behind this tall, brick wall, and outside of it is where everyone else is. And whenever I’d try to think something like, ‘Maybe I should get up and go do something fun today to cheer myself up,’ or, ‘Maybe I should find someone to talk to,’ I’d suddenly remember that I was trapped behind the brick wall. And it was like no one could see it but me. Coworkers at work would ask if I wanted to do playdates with the twins, my aunt would insist on going out, you would try and get me up and moving, and the twins would cry and need me, and I wanted to just yell at everyone, ‘Don’t you see I’m trapped? I wanna come join you but I _can’t_ ,’ and after a while it started to feel hopeless, like I was never going to be able to find a way out.

 

“And now, after being here, it’s like, okay, cool, people are telling me the wall is real, I haven’t been imagining it, my feelings are valid. But then it’s like they said, ‘Yes, you’re stuck, here,’ and then handed me a tiny sledgehammer and went, ‘Okay, now it’s up to you to dismantle this whole wall, and we’ll be waiting for you on the other side, see you then.’

 

“So when I say I feel better, it’s because I can finally see a way out of being trapped, and maybe have even chipped some of it away, but at the same time, it’s not an easy task and I’m already tired and there are so many bricks I gotta knock down before I can get through, and I’m not sure if I have the energy to get all the way through. Does that make any sense?”

 

“Yeah,” Daryl says softly, reaching over to place a hand on Carol’s knee. “I get it.”

 

Carol nods, looking back down at the babies. She sighs.

 

“You’re probably almost out of breastmilk at home, huh?” she asks.

 

“Mm, yeah, got enough to get us through ‘til tomorrow, but we’re runnin’ low.”

 

“I’m not producing like I was, I think it’s the stress,” Carol says, grimacing. “And what I’ve pumped has all the random meds they’ve been giving me in it. We might have to try formula.”

 

“Okay,” Daryl says agreeably, but Carol crinkles her nose.

 

“How shitty am I that not only do I go AWOL on them for days, but I can’t even feed them anymore,” she says.

 

“You ain’t shitty,” says Daryl. “You ain’t,” he insists when she scoffs.

 

“I wanted them to be breastfed. It’s better for them. They’re not even three months old and I wanted to go until they were at least a year, and—”

 

“Carol,” Daryl interrupts gently. He gets up off the chair and goes and squats down directly in front of her, looking up to meet her eye. “They’ll be just fine on formula. Remember what they said in that Lamaze class? There ain’t no shame in it if you can’t breastfeed. You gave birth naturally to two whole-ass human beings, nearly bled out in the process, and then managed to breastfeed ‘em for over two months even though you had postpartum depression. That’s Superwoman status, baby, so don’t you dare beat yourself up over this, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Carol whispers.  Daryl reaches up to brush a tear from her face and adds,

 

“If it makes you feel better, I’m pretty sure my parents let us have Mountain Dew in our bottles, and sometimes gave us Benadryl when we wouldn’t go to sleep.”

 

“Jesus Christ, Daryl, that’s the most redneck thing you’ve ever told me. Did it ever cross their minds that maybe the Mountain Dew was keeping you awake?”

 

“You’d think, but apparently not. See, shit could be a whole lot worse, so shush.” He kisses her on the lips and then goes to sit beside her on the bed, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her, and, by extension, the twins to him.

 

“I never wanted to hurt them,” Carol says after a beat.

 

“Hm?”

 

“Jesse and Josie. I never once thought about hurting them. I won’t lie, I did think they’d be better off without me, and now and then I’d feel resentful because I wanted out but they made me feel guilty. But I never, ever was gonna hurt them. Just in case you were worried. I promise they’re safe with me if we’re ever alone together.”

 

“Oh sweetheart,” Daryl breathes, pressing his lips to her temple for a long moment. “I got no plans to keep them from you,” he whispers when he pulls away. “I know you and me got some shit we gotta work through, but I trust you with them, and I won’t never take ‘em from you. You’re their mother, Carol, they’re as much yours as they’re mine.”

 

“I know, I just...I needed you to know.”

 

“I get it, but don’t worry about it no more. Tell me instead what them doctor’s have been sayin’. When do I get you back?”

 

“As early as tomorrow, probably no later than Friday,” Carol says. “He wants to make sure I have therapy and psychiatry appointments set up, and a safety plan in place, but he says I haven’t shown any negative side effects to the drugs so far.”

 

“Mm, it’d be real good to have you back tomorrow, but I’m willin’ to wait for whenever the doc thinks you’re ready.”

 

“He wants me to start taking the twins to a mommy-baby playgroup, which I’ll do, but expect major bitching, you know how I feel about group activities. He also wants me to do a positivity journal. Every day he wants me to come up with five positive things, and they gotta be different each time. He said I can do it in whatever way works for me, so maybe that can be something I make a point of telling you every day. That way you know I’m doing my therapy homework.”

 

“Sounds good to me. When does he wants you to start?”

 

“Whenever? Soon?”

 

“How about now? Tell me five positive things.”

 

“Oh damn, I should have seen that coming. Put me on the spot, why don’t you? Okay. Um, let me think...I mean, I might as well get the obvious ones out of the way.”

 

“What are the obvious ones?”

 

“I have beautiful, healthy kids.”

 

“‘Kay, that’s one.”

 

“But there are two of them.”

 

“But you said it like one thing, so four more, let’s go.”

 

Carol rolls her eyes, but the corner of her mouth quips up.

 

“I have an amazing, support, albeit pain-in-the-ass boyfriend who loves me even though I’m a hot fucking mess.”

 

“Damn straight he does,” Daryl says, kissing her temple a third time. “‘Kay, three.”

 

“I have a dog that I know is gonna practically mow me down the second I go home, because he loves me, and he loves his brother and sister.”

 

“Two.”

 

“I have an aunt who can be a little much sometimes, but still provides us with childcare and support even though she doesn’t have to—God knows none of our other family does. I’m lucky to have her, even if she shares Minion memes on Facebook.”

 

“Pfft. She’s somethin’ else, that lady. ‘Kay, last one.”

 

Carol twists her mouth. She doesn’t say anything for a minute. Finally, she turns her head to look at Daryl, a small smile on her lips.

 

“I’m still here,” she says. “I’m still here, and I want to stay. And for that I’m grateful.”

 

Daryl searches her eyes and nods.

 

“Me too,” he says softly. “And tell you what?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“I know knockin’ out that brick wall of yours ain’t gonna be no easy task,” he says, pushing her hair behind her ear. “But for what it’s worth, I want you to know that I’m right here on the other side, and I got a sledgehammer, too. We’ll bring her down, baby.”

 

“I believe that,” Carol breathes. “For the first time in a long time I truly do.”

 

—-

 

_November 18th_

_Friday_

 

Carol is released from the hospital on Friday. Daryl picks her up after work, and when they stop to go get the twins, her aunt pulls her into a bear hug and holds her for much too long.

 

“Oh sweetie, why didn’t you say something?” she asks, squeezing her tight. “I should have seen the signs, I knew you weren’t yourself.”

 

“I appreciate the concern,” Carol says through a strained voice. “But it’ll be pretty ironic if you crush me to death right after I got out of the crazy house for being suicidal. I guess that would solve our problems, though.”

 

Carol’s aunt pulls away and gives her a stern look.

 

“That is not something to joke about, young lady.”

 

“I dunno, I thought it was pretty funny,” Carol says with a small smile. “See you on Monday, Auntie, love you,” she says, kissing her on the cheek. She lifts up Jesse’s car seat while Daryl gets Josie and tries not to laugh.

 

“You realize she watches our kids for free, you don’t gotta torture her,” he says once they’re in the car, smirking at her.

 

“Isn’t torturing each other what family’s all about?” she asks.

 

“Mm, I don’t think that’s quite right,” Daryl says, shifting the car into drive.

 

“Huh. Guess I’ll put that on the list for therapy.”

 

Back at home, Carol spends about five minutes letting Henry lose his shit greeting her. He shakes around so hard that his tail knocks a half-full glass of water off the coffee table that Daryl had left there last night.

 

“I’m gone five days and you start living like a heathen,” Carol jokes once Henry is outside and Daryl has wiped up the spill.

 

“Pfft, it was one glass. And besides, I found a partially eaten sandwich literally _in_ our bed while you was gone,” Daryl says pointedly.

 

“Postpartum depression,” Carol says, pointing at herself. “What’s your excuse?”

 

“Tired dad laziness,” Daryl says, kissing her on the mouth and then tossing the wet rag in her face, making her laugh.

 

The two of them settle the twins on their backs on the playmat. They both lay on their own backs on either side of the babies, Jesse by Carol, and Josie by Daryl.

 

“What do you want for dinner?” Carol asks, putting the pacifier Jesse dropped back in his mouth.

 

“I had an idea,” Daryl says, fixing Josie’s sock.

 

“Which is?”

 

“I’ll make it. Here, hang tight, I’ll be back.” He gets to his feet and goes towards the kitchen, Carol watching him with a raised eyebrow.

 

In the kitchen, Daryl pulls out a tub of vanilla ice cream and two packages of Reese’s cups they threw in the freezer at some point. He takes out two bowls, and with the bottom of one of them he bangs on the packages of Reese’s, crushing them into pieces.

 

“What the fuck are you doing in there?” Carol calls from the living room.

 

“Cooking,” Daryl calls back, and continues breaking the chocolate apart. He then fills the bowls with way more ice cream than the recommended serving size, and then sprinkles the crushed candy on top of them. He sticks a spoon in either dish and carries them out to Carol.

 

“What’s this?” she asks, pushing herself up into a sitting position, taking the bowl.

 

“Dinner, duh,” he says. She looks in the bowl and cracks up laughing.

 

“My favorite,” she says, grinning ear-to-ear.

 

Daryl smiles back. He picks up the remote and turns on the TV, not even bothering to be embarrassed that it’s already on the Lifetime Movie Network channel.

 

“Oh!” Carol exclaims, her mouth full of ice cream as she points at the TV with her spoon. She swallows and says, “This is the syphilis one. That’s the one we watched the first time we ever hung out at your place. The day after Sophia died, remember?”

 

“‘Course I do,” he says, lowering himself down to the floor again, leaning up against the coffee table and stretching his legs out in front of him. “We had ice cream with Reese’s then, too.”

 

“It’s fate,” she says, scooting over to sit by him. She nudges him a few times before he gets the hint with a snort and wraps an arm around her. “A hell of a lot has happened since then, huh?”

 

Daryl turns to look at her, and then glances over at the twins—Josie wiggling around, watching the mobile above her, and Jesse dozing with his pacifier hanging precariously out of the side of his mouth.

 

“Understatement,” he says softly. Carol scoops up a spoonful of ice cream and feeds it to him.

 

“I’ve loved you through all of it, though, even if I didn’t know it at first. Through the good, the bad, the awful, and the best.”

 

He smiles at her.

 

“Me too, sweetheart,” he tells her, wiping ice cream off the corner of his mouth. “Now are we gonna watch a bunch of teenagers give each other syphilis or what?”

 

Carol snorts.

 

“Duh,” she says.

 

—-

 

“I can tell you’re looking at me,” Carol whispers into the quiet of the room, a smile in her voice. It’s about five ‘til midnight, and they’ve finally gotten the twins settled and are laying in bed, spooning. Moonlight spills in through the window.

 

“‘Course I am,” Daryl whispers back. “The only thing I love lookin’ at more than you is the babies, and even then it’s because they’re half you.”

 

“Flirt,” Carol says, but there’s a thread of genuine affection in her tone. He pushes her hair aside so he can kiss the spot behind her ear. Barely audibly he says,

 

“I am so glad you’re home.” He nudges her shirt up just enough to rub small circles with his thumb against her skin where his hand is resting on her hip. It’s not sexual, but it feels just as intimate. “I wasn’t sure, you know?”

 

“Sure if I’d come home?”

 

“If you’d want to. I couldn’t sleep in our bed. I’ve been sleepin’ in the kids’ room. Every time I came in here I would just remember...well, you know what I’d remember.”

 

“I’m still really sorry for what I said to you,” Carol starts, but Daryl shakes his head.

 

“Don’t be. You were scared, you were panicking—we both were. I just wanna move past it.”

 

“Okay,” Carol says, taking Daryl’s hand from her hip and lacing her fingers through it. “Then we’ll move past it. One step at a time.”

 

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

“Hey, I have a question.”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“Do you wanna do a proper Thanksgiving this year? I know it’s in less than a week, but last year it was just you and me. I was thinking that it might be nice to have my aunt here, and your brother, if you think he’d come. And I know they won’t remember it, but I feel like I want to do our first real holiday with the kids right, you know?”

 

“Merle and your aunt in the same room, huh? Sounds like one of your aunt’s recipes; could turn out great, or send at least one person running to the bathroom.”

 

“Maybe this is the same as the torture thing, but I thought Thanksgiving was all about awkward family interactions. And even if it’s not, and it all goes up in smoke, we at least have Friendsgiving the next day.”

 

“That’s true. Do you think having a proper family holiday will be good for you?”

 

“I think so. I mean, it’s not like we’re inviting our dads or anything. It might be a disastrous interaction, but at least it’s people we like.”

 

“Okay,” Daryl agrees. “Then let’s do it. I’ll call Merle up tomorrow. He’ll pro’ly give me shit about it, but my guess is he’ll secretly wanna come.”

 

“How’s he been? You talked to him recently?”

 

“Last week, yeah. He said he’s been applying for jobs, and claims to be staying away from the dope. Can’t promise he won’t touch the booze, though. That’s never been his vice, but when he does drink he tends to go a little overboard.”

 

“Well, we all know my aunt is very conservative when it comes to alcohol.”

 

“Pfft, we’ll just get exclusively wine, and your aunt will be happy, and Merle will avoid it ‘cause he hates the stuff.”

 

“Sound plan.”

 

“You sound tired.”

 

“I am.”

 

“Then get some sleep. Oh, but first…”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Five positive things.”

 

Carol snorts.

 

“Oh yeah. Okay, well the first thing is that I’m home.”

 

“Four.”

 

“I had a really nice night with my family.”

 

“Three.”

 

“I’ve laughed more today than I have in what feels like an age.”

 

“Two.”

 

“The kids are taking to formula just fine and I was worried over nothing.”

 

“One more.”

 

She snuggles in closer to him.

 

“I don’t have to sleep alone tonight,” she says quietly. “I get to sleep being held by the love of my life.”

 

Daryl blushes at the title, holding her tighter. He whispers,

 

“Can’t think of a better way to fall asleep.”

 

—-

 

_November 20th_

_Sunday_

 

(9:30a) -house is 2 quiet u guys done yet?-

 

(9:31a) *Daryl, I’m literally still in the driveway. I can see you at the screen door.*

 

(9:31a) -sry sry i just nvr rly been in the house w/out the kids here 2-

 

(9:31a) -go 2 group me n henry will hang out-

 

(9:32a) *We certainly can stay if you’d prefer.*

 

(9:32a) -nice try ignore me n go do mommy/bb bonding time-

 

(9:32a) *Smh, fine. See you soon.*

 

(9:43a) *I’m early. There’s only the instructor and one chick with a chubby lil baby who’s very cute and maybe a month or so older than the twins.*

 

(9:44a) -not cuter than ours tho rite?-

 

(9:45a) *That goes without saying, doesn’t it?*

 

(9:45a) *There are tambourines and maracas in front of every spot. I do not like the implications of that.*

 

(9:46a) -isnt it a music class thing?-

 

(9:47a) *Tambourines and maracas though?? I figured we’d just sing the alphabet or something.<

 

(9:48a) -for 45 min?-

 

(9:49a) *I didn’t think it through, ok?*

 

(9:49a) *Two other people arrived. Woman with a oneish year old who keeps screaming the word “fuck” and she keeps apologizing saying her older kid taught that word to him and her pet parrot and she can’t figure out how to get them to stop, and a woman who looks like she needs a five year long nap and her toddler.*

 

(9:50a) -how many ppl r in this group?-

 

(9:51a) *Not sure, there are like fifteen mats so probably oH FUCKING SHIT*

 

(9:51a) *DARYL*

 

(9:51a) -?-

 

(9:52a) *JEN IS HERE*

 

(9:52a) -o no-

 

(9:52a) -lamaze class jen?-

 

(9:52a) *YES*

 

(9:52a) -o no-

 

(9:52a) -u just got out of the hospital plz plz dnt get thrown in jail-

 

(9:53a) *NO PROMISES*

 

(9:53a) *I THOUGHT THIS GROUP WAS SUPPOSED TO MAKE ME /LESS/ SUICIDAL*

 

(9:54a) -no one is dying i kno shes a pos but play nice-

 

(9:54a) -has she noticed u?-

 

(9:55a) *Not yet, she’s too busy telling tired mom that she sells organic makeup that would “hide those bags under your eyes like magic”. *

 

(9:55a) *Plz note that she did this totally unprompted and tired mom looks like she might throw a punch.*

 

(9:55a) *Also who’s surprised she works a pyramid scheme? I’m not.*

 

(9:55a) *OH FUCK SHE SAW ME*

 

(9:56a) -no murder plz no murder plz no murder plz-

 

(9:58a) *“Oh Carol it’s /so/ good to see you. Are those your twins? They’re so small! I bet you thought they would have been little giants given how big you got there towards the end, huh?”*

 

(9:58a) *Murder is happening, Daryl, I’m sorry.*

 

(9:59a) *Also I saw her baby, he’s wearing name brand Nike sneakers. He’s a baby. He’s can’t walk and he’ll grow out of them in two seconds.*

 

(9:59a) *I hate her I hate her I hate her ok I g2g music time, I’ll use my one phone call from jail to call and have you come pick up the twins.*

 

(10:00a) - :///// -

 

—-

 

(11:09a) -class was ovr like almost 25 min ago u didnt actually get arrested did u?-

 

(11:11a) *Wish also lol no, I didn’t. Sorry, Jen was being a piece of shit to Rachel (tired mom) again, giving her unsolicited advice on how to keep her toddler calm bc ig he was playing his tambourine too loudly for her taste or something, idek, but I jumped in and told her to mind her own business, and then started talking to Rachel to completely ice Jen out, which she HATED, it was glorious, and then Rachel and I actually hit it off and have been chatting.*

 

(11:12a) *She wants to know if I wanna go to the indoor playground with her and her son for a little while. Do you mind? I know you don’t like being away from the kids.*

 

(11:13a) -lol im just whining ofc i want u 2 go itll b gud 4 u n the twins-

 

(11:13a) -glad ur making friends-

 

(11:14a) *Yes. We’re gonna plot Jen’s demise together.*

 

(11:15a) -less glad ur makin friends-

 

(11:15a) -but ilu have fun-

 

(11:16a) * <3 *

 

—-

 

“I come bearing infants and leftover Mexican food,” Carol says when she gets home, opening the front door. Henry, who’s sitting on the couch with Daryl, leaps over him, accidentally scratching Daryl with one of his nails in the process.

 

“Ow,” Daryl mumbles, rubbing his arm. He looks over his shoulder to see Henry very gently nuzzling the babies’ feet with the tip of his nose, even though he very clearly wants to jump all over them. Daryl forgives him instantly.

 

“Hello, my love,” Carol says, lugging the car seats over to the couch and leaning down to give him a kiss.

 

“Hey. How’d it go?” He bends over, unbuckles, and picks up Jesse, giving him a peck on the cheek. Holding him like a football, he expertly undoes Josie’s buckle with one hand, scoops her up, gives her cheek a peck too, and cradles both of them.

 

“Group was kind of stupid,” Carol says, plopping down beside him on the couch and putting her feet up on the coffee table. She then pats the small amount of space beside her for Henry to jump up and join them. She scratches him behind the ear as she continues, saying, “We sang songs and played with instruments. For the babies in the group it was more just a way to get them started on socialization, but the toddlers were practicing rhythm, and here’s a secret: Toddlers have no sense of rhythm.”

 

“You don’t say?”

 

“I know, I was shocked, too. And obviously Jen was a fucking nightmare, but at least everyone else in the group seemed to not want to tolerate her bullshit either because they all just sneered at her whenever she said something rude, which was everything that came out of her mouth, obviously. I dunno. I’ll keep going. At the very least it gets me out of the house with the twins.”

 

“And how was hangin’ out with your new friend? Rachel, right?”

 

“Yeah, Rachel. She’s a sweetheart. She’s like, thirty or something, but her son’s her first kid, and we got to talking and when I told her about what’s been going on with me she said that she’s been through postpartum depression, too, and gave me some advice on what’s helped her, and she gave me her number and said I could text or call her whenever if I need to talk. And I think we might make it a thing, going out after group on Sundays. I kinda feel like I just got an AA sponsor, except instead of alcoholism it’s severe depression.”

 

“Nothin’ wrong with that. I’m glad you found someone who understands.”

 

“Me too. Michonne and Maggie are my bffs for life, obviously, but it’ll be nice to have someone in town to talk to.”

 

Daryl regards her. She is alert and picking at her leftovers, a good chunk of which looks to have already been eaten.

 

“What’s up?” she asks through a bite of tortilla chip when she notices Daryl staring at her.

 

“Nothin’,” he says. “You just seem like you’re in a good mood.”

 

“Hm,” Carol hums thoughtfully. “I think I am.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah. Not perfect or anything, but, I dunno, I had fun today. And it’s been a long time since I’ve had fun.”

 

“One day at a time, right?”

 

“One day at a time,” she agrees.

 

Daryl switches on the TV and Carol rests her head on his shoulder, the twins still in his arms, and Henry on Carol’s lap; the whole family together on a happy Sunday afternoon.

 

—-

 

_November 24th_

_Thanksgiving_

 

(10:09a) -2day mite b a disaster-

 

(10:09a) -im nervous-

 

(10:12a) ~aren’t you always nerdy?~

 

(10:13a) -no thts u-

 

(10:13a) >No, you’re the nerd, Glenn.<

 

(10:14a) ~fuck off.~

 

(10:14a) >Anyway, why will it be a disaster, Daryl?<

 

(10:15a) -nvr had a family thnxgiving-

 

(10:15a) -like w/ actual family outside of carol-

 

(10:15a) -n my bro aint exactly prince charming-

 

(10:16a) >Eh, I think Thanksgiving is the one holiday where awkward family arguments and drama is just part of tradition.<

 

(10:17a) ~my parents have always had us celebrate thanksgiving even though they’re immigrants because they wanted us to experience american culture or something, except something ridiculous almost always happens and at this point i think they should just give up.~

 

(10:17a) ~one thanksgiving the police randomly showed up at our door to arrest my uncle for money laundering, and he jumped out our window to try and run, broke his ankle, got taken in, and we never spoke about it again.~

 

(10:18a) ~this other year my grandparents were visiting from korea, and my grandfather got suuuper drunk, and said to me, at the dinner table, something that roughly translates in english to, “glenn, sometimes it’s okay for men to pleasure each other.” which, hey, hell yeah grandpa, you do you, but maybe don’t say that in front of your super conservative wife?~

 

(10:19a) ~when i was eight my other grandma, the crazy one who told horrifying ghost stories, had a brain aneurysm and fell face first into the mashed potatoes.~

 

(10:20a) >What the fuck??<

 

(10:21a) ~it’s okay, she lived. during my childhood she had that, one heart attack, four cases of pneumonia, and two hip replacements before a stroke ended up taking her out. we were starting to think she was immortal.~

 

(10:21a) ~what was the point of this again? i don’t remember what we were talking about, sorry, i got off on a tangent.~

 

(10:22a) >Daryl’s nervous about having family over.<

 

(10:23a) ~oh yeah. it’ll probably be fine, daryl.~

 

(10:24a) - :/ -

 

(10:24a) -thnx-

 

(10:24a) -im gna go 2 the kitchen n stand there awkwardly until carol tells me 2 do smthn-

 

(10:25a) >Let us know how it goes!<

 

(10:25a) ~and keep the mashed potatoes out of range of people’s faces!~

 

(10:26a) -will do-

 

—-

 

“He’s pro’ly bailing,” Daryl says to Carol, checking the time on his phone.

 

“Babe, he’s ten minutes late and the food isn’t even totally done yet. Give it a few before you start jumping to conclusions. He hasn’t given you reason to doubt him so far, right?”

 

“Guess not,” Daryl mutters.

 

“Good, now go take this to my aunt,” Carol says, handing Daryl a large glass of red wine.

 

“What if she asks where I got it?”

 

“She won’t, she’ll just be happy to have it.”

 

“It’s so fuckin’ stupid that I got two kids but I gotta wait until Jesus is in town for the holiday to get him to score booze for me. I wish I still felt comfortable using my fake ID, but you and the kids don’t need me to be in the slammer if I got caught. Talkin’ to Jesus is always so weird, though. You know what that dude said to me this time?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“He called me a DILF.”

 

Carol laughs so hard she almost drops the fruit salad.

 

“That just cured my depression,” she says, sitting the bowl on the counter and wiping tears from her eyes.

 

Daryl just deadpan stares at her, which makes her crack up all over again. With a sigh, he turns to leave the kitchen. He goes to the living room where Carol’s aunt is sitting on the couch keeping an eye on the sleeping babies.

 

“Here,” Daryl says, handing the glass over to her.

 

“Oh, don’t mind if I do, dear,” she says, taking the glass from him. Just then a knock comes at the door and Daryl’s heart leaps up to his throat. He was kind of hoping he wouldn’t show.

 

On the short walk to the door a thousand scenarios as to why Merle’s late go through his head, all of which involve dope in some form or fashion. He turns the handle and lifts his eyebrows in surprise at the sight of his brother wearing decent clothes, freshly shaven, and holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand, and a shopping bag in the other.

 

“Hey baby brother,” Merle says, stepping inside when Daryl pushes the screen door open for him. “Sorry I’m late, I ran to the store on my way here but the lines were crazy. I woulda called, but you know I only got that wifi phone ‘til I can afford something decent.”

 

“No problem,” Daryl mutters, rubbing the nape of his neck. He’s at a loss for words, but he’s saved by Carol, who emerges from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.

 

“There’s my girl,” Merle says with a smile, opening his arms wide and hugging Carol tight.

 

“I’m glad you could make it,” Carol says when he pulls away.

 

“These are for you, sweetheart,” Merle says, handing her the flowers. Carol makes a small, “oh!” sound as she takes them from her.

 

“That’s very sweet of you. You didn’t need to do that,” she says.

 

“I know I didn’t, but I remember how this one used to be in the kitchen. Unless y’all are servin’ Hot Pockets for dinner I’m guessin’ you’re doin’ all the cookin’ and so that’s my thank you.”

 

“Oh aren’t you cute,” she says. “Never mention Hot Pockets again, though,” she adds, sitting the flowers on the coffee table gently.

 

At Merle’s confused expression, Daryl explains, “She ate like seventeen boxes of Hot Pockets in two weeks when she was pregnant and now thinking about them makes her sick.”

 

“It was not seventeen boxes,” Carol says defensively. “Auntie, this is Daryl’s brother, Merle.”

 

“I was wondering when you were gonna introduce me to this handsome man over here,” Carol’s aunt says, getting to her feet and holding her hand out. “I’m Barbara,” she says. “But you can call me Barb.”

 

“Pleasure, ma’am,” Merle says, taking her hand, giving it a squeeze, and winking. Daryl looks at Carol and rolls his eyes. She nudges him with a poorly suppressed smile. “Where are my niece and nephew?” Merle asks once he’s dropped Barb’s hand.

 

“Oh they’re over here napping like little angels,” Barb says, waving Merle over to see.

 

“Damn, they grow like weeds, don’t they?” says Merle. “Pardon my language, ma’am.”

 

“ _Barb_ ,” she insists.

 

“Barb. Tell me, if you’re Carol’s aunt, what’s that make you to them?”

 

“I’m their great aunt.”

 

“Great, huh? Sounds about right.”

 

“Oh for the love of...Merle! What’s in the bag?” Daryl interrupts, pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

“Huh?” he asks, looking over his shoulder at him. He glances at the grocery bag in his hand. “Oh. I bought a vegetable tray.”

 

“A vegetable tray?” Daryl repeats with a furrowed brow.

 

“Yeah, like, them things full of vegetables and like, dip and stuff? I dunno, don’t people bring stuff like that to fancy dinners?”

 

“Yes,” Carol says sweetly before Daryl can say anything. She takes the bag from Merle and then stands on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. “Very thoughtful, thank you.”

 

“No problem,” Merle mutters, ducking his head to hide his blush.

 

“Why don’t you sit here with my aunt, and we’ll finish up the rest of dinner.”

 

“You sure you don’t need any help, dear?” Barb asks, bringing her glass up to her lips and eyeing Merle.

 

“No, Auntie, we’re good, you just relax,” Carol says. She and Daryl go back into the kitchen, where Carol immediately starts laughing again.

 

“It ain’t funny,” Daryl says flatly.

 

“No, you’re right, it’s fucking hilarious,” Carol corrects.

 

“I swear to God, if the word ‘cougar’ comes out of my brother’s mouth at any point I will fuckin’ break his jaw.”

 

Carol almost folds herself in half, holding her ribs, she’s laughing so hard. Daryl wants to be annoyed but he can’t when she looks so happy. He goes over and nudges her so she stands upright. She loops her arms around his neck and grins up at him, a few belated chuckles escaping here and there.

 

“A wine drunk aunt, weird family dynamics, and a vegetable tray. I’d say we’re nailing this whole Thanksgiving thing, wouldn’t you?”

 

Daryl can’t help his own small huff of laughter. He cups her face and leans down to kiss her thoroughly.

 

“‘S’long as no one has an aneurysm in the mashed potatoes,” he says.

 

“What?” Carol asks with a bemused smile. He shakes his head.

 

“Never mind, I’ll explain later.”

 

“Okay. Oh hey, real fast.”

 

“Hm?”

 

“I don’t wanna do that whole ‘what am I thankful for’ thing with everyone, at least not about anything significant; shit’s awkward enough as is. Can I do it here for you now? As my positivity journal for the day?”

 

“‘Course. Go for it.”

 

“Alright, well first of all I’m grateful that at least someone in this family knows how to cook, even if it means I’m stuck with all the work.”

 

“Hey, I offered, but you told me I’d probably find a way to burn the boiling water. Four.”

 

“I’m grateful that your brother is here, sober, and trying, even if he’s hitting on my aunt.”

 

“Let’s not talk about that. Three.”

 

“I’m grateful that I’m getting help so that I get to spend my children’s first real holiday with them.”

 

“Two.”

 

“I’m grateful that you’re the type of partner who is willing to help with everything, whether it be trying to cook—operative word being ‘try’—cleaning, or taking care of the babies, you always do your fair share without ever complaining. You never make me feel like it’s my duty to cater to you.”

 

“That’s ‘cause it ain’t. We do this all together. I won’t never expect anything from you that you don’t expect from me. One.”

 

Carol twists her mouth and smiles sheepishly.

 

“Is it okay to have superficial things on my list?”

 

“If it’s positive and makes you feel good then why the hell not?”

 

“‘Kay, then I am super grateful that you convinced me to make that chocolate cream pie, because I’ve been thinking about it literally since last night, and I’m kind of considering not telling anyone else I made it and just bringing it to bed with two forks and eating it with you tonight.”

 

Daryl smirks.

 

“You’re the perfect woman, you know that?” he says.

 

“Does that mean you agree that I should do that?”

 

“Duh.”

 

“Then you’re also the perfect man,” Carol says, kissing him again. Daryl rests his forehead against hers for a moment and whispers,

 

“Just so you know, I’m grateful for you. As my the mother of my children, as my girlfriend, and as my best friend, every damn day I’m grateful for you. And I know it’s not easy, baby, but I’m so grateful that you’ve decided to put the work in to make yourself want to stay.” He pulls back to look her in the eyes. “‘Cause my life just wouldn’t be the same if you left.”

 

“I’m staying,” Carol whispers back. “I promise you, no matter what it takes, I’m gonna stay.” She brushes a hand over his face and adds, barely audible, “‘Cause I can finally see the reasons why I should.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ik ik ik, the moment you guys have all been waiting for...carol's aunt finally has a name. 
> 
> (shout out to juno, also @ sara, i took that naming buzzfeed quiz but it came up with pier, sooo)
> 
> my headcanon, which, since this is my story, is just canon, is that daryl didn't actually know carol's aunt's name, but it had been way too long to ask, and so he's literally just been waiting until someone said it out loud, and now he can breathe a huge sigh of relief. he never would have learned her name if merle hadn't gotten sober. go merle. -obama saying 'it is law' gif-
> 
> anyway.
> 
> i don't think i have any other announcements. remember i changed thursday update time to "thursdayish, but maybe actually friday". 
> 
> that's all i got, homies. 
> 
> see you on the flip,  
> -diz


	22. Hot Bitch

_ December 7th _

_ Wednesday _

 

(5:42p) - _ you sent a photo _ -

 

(5:42p) -3 months old 2day-

 

(5:42p) -well technically jojo was 3mo yesterday but theyre like 10 min apart-

 

(5:42p) -anyway look @ my kids killin tummy time-

 

(5:43p) -they can hold their heads up like fukin champs-

 

(5:44p) >No one does tummy time than the Dixon Twins.<

 

(5:44p) ~*boss ass bitch plays in the background*~

 

(5:45p) -lol-

 

(5:45p) -can u believe theyve been here 3 whole months?-

 

(5:45p) -but also can u believe theyve only been here 3 whole months?-

 

(5:45p) -its like they were just born but also i cant rmbr life w/out em-

 

(5:46p) -damn i luv the shit outta my kids u guys-

 

(5:47p) ~i mean, to be fair, we love the shit outta of your kids too.~

 

(5:48p) >Yeah, like, I'm excited to see my family and friends when I come home for break, but mostly I wanna see the twins.<

 

(5:48p) >With everyone else I can call or text them or whatever, but we only ever get to chill with the twins in person. And how will I become the favorite uncle if I don't ever see them?<

 

(5:49p) ~daryl, isn't it cute how he thinks he'd ever be the favorite when we all know it's me?~

 

(5:50p) >Just because you share a birthday with one of them doesn't automatically make you the favorite. It takes work. Dedication. Perseverance. Technological competence.<

 

(5:51p) ~they can't read, they don't care how i type.~

 

(5:51p) ~and i'll have you know that i am the fucking king of playtime, so once they're old enough to play pretend it's over for all of y'all.~

 

(5:52p) -idk they seem 2 b likin merle p gud lately-

 

(5:52p) -esp jojo tho im still convinced its just cuz she thinks his face is weird-

 

(5:53p) ~you saying we got competition?~

 

(5:54p) >With Merle of all people?<

 

(5:55p) -yeah idk i was surprised 2-

 

(5:56p) >How's be been doing? Still up to standards?<

 

(5:57p) -so far-

 

(5:58p) ~think he'll stick with it?~

 

(5:59p) -¯\\_(ツ)_/¯-

 

(5:59p) -i wna trust him but theres just 2 much history there u kno?-

 

(5:59p) -this is the longest ive ever seen him b sober i'll give him tht-

 

(6:00p) >It seems like he's trying at least.<

 

(6:01p) -yeah-

 

(6:01p) -hold on a sec-

 

(6:07p) ~you good?~

 

(6:11p) -sry jj was making lil bb coos n i didnt wnt him 2 think i wasnt listening-

 

(6:11p) -it sounded important-

 

(6:11p) -he likes 2 tlk-

 

(6:11p) -jojo doesnt much tho ig she takes after me-

 

(6:11p) -anyway wut were we saying?-

 

(6:12p) >Rofl. We were talking about your brother.<

 

(6:13p) -o yeah-

 

(6:13p) -idk ive liked having him arnd but im not convinced yet-

 

(6:14p) ~are you having him over for christmas?~

 

(6:15p) -mmmhm n carols aunt n if they spend the whole time flirting again im kicking them out-

 

(6:15p) -carols no help she thinks its funny-

 

(6:16p) >That's because it is.<

 

(6:16p) ~it's exceptionally funny in fact.~

 

(6:17p) - :/ -

 

(6:17p) -moving on-

 

(6:17p) -carols making us do the tree thing again on sat-

 

(6:18p) >By "tree thing" do you mean you guys are gonna go get a Christmas tree?<

 

(6:19p) -yes-

 

(6:19p) -which i'll put up w/ bc it makes her happy n bc its the bbies 1st xmas but i still dnt understand the point-

 

(6:19p) -n 2 make it worse-

 

(6:19p) -we're going w/ carols friend from mommy/bb class n her husband n son-

 

(6:20p) ~oh man, going and needlessly destroying nature /and/ social interaction? hell of a weekend ahead of you bud.~

 

(6:21p) -trust me ik-

 

(6:21p) -but it was carols idea n im just glad shes making an effort 2 get out of the house n stuff-

 

(6:22p) >How is she?<

 

(6:23p) -gud days n less gud days but shes open abt it w/ me n she goes 2 her 1st therapy session on fri-

 

(6:23p) -its getting better-

 

(6:24p) ~that's awesome.~

 

(6:24p) >Michonne said she and her and Maggie have already made plans for when we're all in town.<

 

(6:25p) -yeah n also carols aunt is alrdy insisting on watching jojo n jj all nite nye n most of new years day so ig we'll go 2 ur party rick-

 

(6:25p) -hooray parties :/ -

 

(6:26p) >I seem to recall you enjoying yourself quite a bit last year.<

 

(6:27p) ~gonna make some more babies at rick's place again, daryl?~

 

(6:28p) -absolutely not-

 

(6:28p) -i luv my kids n wud die 4 them n theyre my everything-

 

(6:28p) -but absofuckenlutely not-

 

(6:29p) ~hope you guys are using birth control then.~

 

(6:30p) -havent needed 2 we havent had sex-

 

(6:31p) >Since the twins were born?<

 

(6:32p) -since b4 she was on bed rest-

 

(6:32p) -so idk like almost 4 months-

 

(6:33p) ~that's pretty significant given that you guys used to fuck like rabbits.~

 

(6:34p) -no we didnt it wasnt tht much-

 

(6:35p) >Yeah no you guys screwed around all the time.<

 

(6:36p) ~is it like, a problem? like that your sex life has slowed way down?~

 

(6:37p) -y r we tlking abt my sex life?-

 

(6:38p) ~hey man, honest question. grace was saying that reestablishing a healthy sex life helped strengthen her marriage after briar was born.~

 

(6:39p) >Glenn, I think I've come to the conclusion that your sisters all overshare.<

 

(6:40p) ~oh i am well aware.~

 

(6:40p) ~well well well aware.~

 

(6:41p) -i told u i can take or leave sex i just like bein close w/ her so thts the part i miss-

 

(6:41p) -i watched her give birth tho n if i were her i wudnt wnt anyone near me again maybe 4ever so i dnt blame her-

 

(6:41p) -plus w/ the ppd shes not been in a mental place 4 it-

 

(6:41p) -idk itll happen but i aint gna push her we'll do it whn shes rdy-

 

(6:42p) >Good man.<

 

(6:43p) ~carol's lucky to have you as a boy band.~

 

(6:43p) ~*boyfriend.~

 

(6:44p) >Roflll imagine daryl in a boy band.<

 

(6:45p) ~we'll start a team groupchat boy band.<

 

(6:46p) -no thnx-

 

(6:47p) >I feel like we need at least one other member.<

 

(6:48p) ~jesse, obviously.<

 

(6:49p) -cant bc tht wud leave jojo out sry no boy band-

 

(6:50p) ~as a third wave feminist…~

 

(6:50p) >Here we go.<

 

(6:50p) ~...i say we will subvert gender norms and josie can join our boy band and she'll be our frontman. frontgirl?~

 

(6:50p) ~frontinfant.~

 

(6:51p) -jfc-

 

(6:52p) ~ _ dumbass changed the group name to "Jojo & the Boys" _ ~

 

(6:53p) >First single: Tummy Time<

 

(6:54p) -neither of u r allowed arnd my kids anymore-

 

(6:55p) ~you're breaking up the band, daryl.~

 

(6:56p) -let it break-

 

(6:56p) -g2g jj shit all over himself-

 

(6:57p) ~single number two: Blowout~

 

(6:58p) >Aaaand we're done.<

 

(6:59p) ~i didn't expect my musical career to start and end so quickly.~

 

(7:00p) >That's the nature of the beast, bud.<

 

(7:01p) ~easy come and easy go.~

 

—-

 

_ December 10th _

_ Saturday _

 

“Are you gonna make that face the whole time?” Carol asks from the passenger seat. Daryl glances at her with a frown.

 

“What face?” he asks, taking a turn off the paved road onto a stretch of country gravel.

 

“Like you’re severely constipated,” she says, and he huffs.

 

“That’s just my face,” Daryl argues. “Ain’t you the one who told me I got resting bitch face?”

 

“Nah, your expression right now is the one you get every time you have to go be social. Like, anxiety mixed with disgust.”

 

“Not disgusted, just never know how I’m s’posed to act around new people. Or most people, matter of fact.” He takes a left, following signs along the road that are arrows shaped like Christmas trees.

 

“I promise Rachel’s really nice, and I’ll be there to do most of the talking. You can hang out with the babies, Henry, and her son, while I talk to Rachel and her husband.”

 

“Holdin’ you to that,” Daryl mutters, pulling into an unpaved parking lot filled with cars. There are parents pushing strollers, little kids chasing each other, and employees shaking dead needles from chopped trees strapped into machines.  Last year Carol dragged him here and they spent the afternoon poking fun at how white-bread the whole place felt, but now, he realizes, they’re gonna fit right in.

 

Parenthood is about sacrifices, he supposes.

 

“She said they’d meet us over at the entrance to the tree farm,” Carol says once Daryl’s parked the van. She unbuckles her seat belt. “Stroller or wraps?” she asks.

 

“Be easier if we just each wear one,” Daryl says. “Leaves our hands free, and then one of us can get the diaper bag, and the other can hold onto Henry.”

 

“Works for me. Jesse’s on your side. You get him and I get Josie?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Go team,” Carol says, holding her hand up. With a snort, Daryl gives her a high five. She takes hold of his hand before he can pull away, lacing her fingers through his, and tugs him towards her so she can kiss him. “Thank you,” she whispers against his mouth. “I know this isn’t really your idea of a good time.”

 

“Nah, it’ll be good,” Daryl says, pulling back enough to look her in the eye. “You’re makin’ an effort. I’m proud of you. And ‘sides, we got a whole lifetime of dealin’ with dumb traditions and activities. At least we don’t gotta go to like, a little kid t-ball game where they give out participation trophies just yet.”

 

“You’ll never miss a single game,” Carol says, smirking.

 

“‘Course not, I’ll be right there cheerin’, but it’ll be dumb as hell. I think that’s just part of good parenting, s’far as I can figure. You go watch a bunch of kids you don’t care about do sports and music and shit, ‘cause you  _ do  _ care about your kids, and you want ‘em to get the most outta growin’ up. So if hangin’ out with strangers and killin’ a perfectly good tree makes my kids and my girl happy, then it’s worth doin’.”

 

“I’m pretty sure that was just a roundabout way of saying, ‘I hate this, but I love you, so I’ll do it,’ but you know what? I’ll take it.”

 

They take the twins and wrap them up so they’re each wearing one on their fronts. Carol gathers up the diaper bag, while Daryl goes and gets Henry from the way back, hooking a leash to his harness and letting him jump down and sniff all the new smells on the ground.”

 

They head towards the entrance, Daryl giving tight smiles at all the people who beam at the sight of him wearing a baby. Objectively he knows that—with his flannels and ripped jeans and muddy boots—he looks like one of the last people on Earth who would put on a baby wrap, but he doesn’t like the implication that he’s some kind of marvel because he takes care of his kids. Even though he knows these people out in this part of rural Georgia, several miles from his town, don’t know him by face or name, he still gets a feeling in his gut like they can’t believe a Dixon could be an attentive parent. No one is acting like he doesn’t belong here among the moms and dads all taking pictures of their kids posing with Christmas trees, and yet he feels like an imposter.

 

He gives himself a little shake to clear his head, and instead looks over to see if he can make out anyone who may be waiting for them, and he stops dead in his tracks when he does. Carol stops when he does, and knits her brows together. 

 

“What’s wrong?” she asks. Daryl nods subtly towards the entrance.

 

“Your friend? She the woman over there in the purple jacket?” he asks. Carol follows his gaze to the fence guarding the farm.

 

“Yeah…?” she says slowly, turning back to him. “Why? An ex of yours or something?” she jokes.

 

“‘Course not,” he mutters, distracted. Then, more to himself than to her, he says, “Rachel is  _ Soccer Mom _ ?” 

 

“I mean, I guess she kinda looks like a soccer mom, but—”

 

“No, not  _ a  _ soccer mom, I mean she’s...fuck it, never mind. Let’s go.” He takes a breath and starts walking again.

 

“No, what did you mean?” Carol asks, but just as the words escape her mouth, the small boy hanging onto Rachel’s pant leg happens to glance over their way, and he breaks into a wide smile. He lets go of his mom and runs over, surprising Carol when he bypasses him completely and instead body slams himself into Daryl and wraps his arms around his knees.

 

“Hey, bud,” Daryl mutters, patting the top of Ryan’s head.

 

“What—” Carol starts, but is interrupted by Rachel, who has come up to meet them, a well-built man who Daryl assumes is her husband trailing close behind her.

 

“Well that answers a question,” she says, smiling sheepishly at Daryl. “When Carol told me your name I thought it’d be a pretty big coincidence that there’d be another young Daryl in town with twin babies. I wasn’t there on Tuesday to ask you, though.” She holds her hand out to him. “It’s so silly, but after all these months I don’t think we’ve ever actually introduced ourselves to each other. I’m Rachel.”

 

Daryl chews on his lower lip, blushing, as he takes her hand and mutters, “Daryl,” before dropping the handshake quickly.

 

“Hi, what’s happening?” Carol asks sweetly, looking between Daryl and Rachel.

 

“We got therapy at the same time on Tuesdays,” Daryl tries not to mumble. “Remember when I told you there’s a lil’ kid there I made friends with?” He nods down at Ryan, who’s still attached to his legs, and is watching Henry cautiously.

 

“Seriously?” Carol asks, giving a bemused smile. “I’ll be damned.” She glances at Ryan and then at Rachel. “Sorry. Darned. Mine can’t talk yet so I’m not out of the habit.” 

 

“He already learned a good handful of colorful words when I stubbed my toe on one of his toys the other day, so it’s a lost cause at this point,” Rachel says, wrapping her arms around Carol and Josie in a brief hug. “Small world, huh?” she asks once she’s pulled away.

 

“Very,” Carol agrees, and to Daryl she says, “Now you don’t have to worry about trying to be social with strangers. Turns out you already know two out of three.”

 

Daryl doesn’t bother to mention that it’s somehow more awkward that he kind of knows them than if he hadn't known them at all. There’s more pressure there to carry a conversation, because Rachel already knows he’s capable of it. With a stranger he could have pretended to be mute or something.

 

“Let’s make it three out of three,” Rachel says, taking her husband by the elbow and bringing him into the mix. “This is Stephen, my husband.”

 

“Hey, nice to meet ya,” Stephen says enthusiastically. He slaps his hand into Daryl’s and gives it a hearty shake, Daryl’s arm a limp noodle in his firm grasp. He gives Stephen a stiff nod. 

 

“Should we get this show on the road?” Stephen asks, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. Rachel and Carol voice their agreement, while Daryl, the twins, Ryan, and Henry all just wait in silence.

 

“Ryan, sweetie, take mommy or daddy’s hand,” Rachel says. “I don’t want you to get lost.” 

 

“Uh-uh,” Ryan says, shaking his head. He takes hold of Daryl’s free hand and looks up at him with his little toddler face, food crumbs on his cheeks and dried snot under his nose. 

 

“Honey, Daryl already has to hold the puppy, he doesn’t need to hold onto you, too,” Rachel tells him, but Daryl shakes his head.

 

“S’fine,” he says. Rachel bites her lip.

 

“You’re sure?”

 

“He’d rather hide behind us with the kids and the dog, trust me. He’s a bit of an introvert,” Carol says, smirking at him. He gives her an eye roll, but is secretly grateful that her words seem to convince Rachel that Ryan’s not a burden. They start into the farm, and immediately Stephen starts rapid-firing questions at Carol about her work, hobbies, how she’s like mommy/baby group, etc., and Daryl feels blessed by the Duolingo owl that he’s trailing behind them, not a target.

 

“You got a dog,” Ryan informs Daryl, pointing a gloved finger at Henry, and already Daryl prefers this conversation to the one in front of him.

 

“Yeah, I do. His name is Henry.”

 

“My grandma has a dog,” Ryan says, his tiny feet crunching on twigs and leaves as they walk towards the trees.

 

“Oh yeah?”

 

“Yeah. She is a big dog but yesterday when I was a baby she died.”

 

Daryl pieces the sentence together. Ryan clearly hasn’t mastered tenses yet, although his speaking has improved drastically since Daryl first met him, and he wonders if kids always change this fast. How are you supposed to enjoy each phase, he wonders, without getting anxious that they’re growing up right before your eyes? He glances down at Jesse, just to make sure he’s still small.

 

“Sorry your grandma’s dog died, bud,” he says, once he’s got the sentence sorted.

 

“Grandma says he’s in Heaven with grandpa. Grandpa went to the hospital but the doctors couldn’t make him better so he died. Do you have a grandpa?”

 

“I used to.”

 

“Did your grandpa die, too?”

 

“A long time ago, yeah.”

 

“‘Cause he got sick?”

 

His maternal grandpa drank himself to death, and his paternal grandpa evaded his fourth DWI by fleeing the police and driving straight off a bridge.

 

“Yeah, ‘cause he got sick.”

 

“Is that your baby?” Ryan asks, pointing at Jesse nested against Daryl’s chest.

 

“Mhm,” Daryl says. 

 

“Why are you holding your baby like how mommies do?” he asks, furrowing his brow.

 

“‘Cause daddies can hold their babies, too.”

 

“Nuh-uh,” Ryan laughs.

 

“For real, man.”

 

“Your baby’s mommy could hold him.”

 

“But she’s carrying our other baby,” Daryl points out, nodding up at Carol, who’s examining a tree with Rachel, cupping the back of Josie’s head.

 

“You have  _ two  _ babies?” Ryan asks.

 

“Yeah, you knew that. You met them before.”

 

“But those are Carol’s babies.”

 

“They’re Carol’s babies and my babies. She’s the mommy and I’m the daddy.”

 

“Why do you have two?”

 

“‘Cause they’re twins.”

 

“What’s that?” 

 

“It means they were born on the same day,” Daryl explains, deciding to skip over his kids’ exception to the rule. “They’re brother and sister and they have the same birthday.” Sorta.

 

“But were they in their mommy’s tummy?”

 

“Yep, at the same time.”

 

“I was in my mommy’s tummy and then I was born and now I’m this many.” He holds up three fingers.

 

“When’s your birthday?” 

 

“Mm, I think maybe it’s…” he seems at a loss. “When is your birthday?”

 

“Mine’s May fourteenth,” Daryl says.

 

“Yeah, I think mine is May fourteenth, too,” Ryan decides.

 

“Oh yeah? My twins were born in September.”

 

“Actually, maybe I’m in September, too.”

 

Daryl laughs.

 

“Maybe, dude,” he says, squeezing Ryan’s hand.

 

“Hey babe, what do you think of this one?” Carol calls over to him, and he realizes the adults have somehow gotten way ahead of him. He looks at the tree Carol’s standing by and twists his mouth.

 

“What do you think?” he asks Ryan. Ryan tilts his head and draws his eyebrows together seriously.

 

“I don’t think Henry wants that one,” he says with certainty after considerable thought. Daryl fights his laugh.

 

“You’re pro’ly right,” he says. “Should we go find a tree Henry would like?”

 

Ryan nods, and they head towards the others, hand-in-hand, to find the perfect tree.

 

—-

 

“You’ve gotta admit,” Carol says, handing him a mug filled with steaming, homemade hot chocolate, and then curling up like a cat beside him, her own mug in her hands. “Even if you don’t understand the tradition, it’s still really pretty.”

 

The twins are asleep in the nursery, and Henry is napping beside the couch. The only lights on in the room are the fairy lights wrapped around the tree, illuminating everything in a red and gold hue. It make the house feel peaceful, somehow.

 

“It’s pretty,” Daryl agrees, sipping his drink. He wraps an arm around Carol’s shoulder and holds her close. “You’re prettier.”

 

“Pfft,” she says, grinning. “Always such a flirt.”

 

“Nah,” he says. “Funny thing is I’m not. You just bring it outta me. Couldn’t tell you how.”

 

“Probably ‘cause you love me,” Carol says with a smirk, playing absently with a button on his shirt.

 

“Pro’ly,” he says softly, shifting so she can rest her head against his chest.

 

“Thank you for doing this for me,” she whispers.

 

“Told you it was worth doin’,” Daryl reminds her, rubbing her arm.

 

“I know, but still. I know it’s not your scene. Not really mine, either. Weird walking around with Rachel and Stephen and pretending like we don’t come from the trashiest of white trash.”

 

“You ain’t white trash, you was just broke.  _ I’m  _ the redneck with the bad reputation here.”

 

“Yeah, well, either way it was...domestic.”

 

“It was.”

 

“Are we becoming domestic? Is that what’s happening? What if we get boring?”

 

“Baby, our idea of a good time is laying on the couch watching Lifetime movies until we fall asleep, and that was before we had kids.”

 

“Still, is that what we are?” 

 

“I mean, we got a house, two kids, and a dog. Seems pretty domestic to me.”

 

“Yeah, but we can only afford the house ‘cause it was one inspection away from getting condemned, the dog was a stray you picked up off the street, and the kids were born out of wedlock to a couple teenagers.”

 

“So maybe we’re not there quite yet,” Daryl says smiling. 

 

“Thank God. But regardless, it’s a nice little family we got,” Carol says, yawning. Daryl takes her mug and sits it, as well as his own, down on the coffee table, and shifts around on the couch so they’re laying down, cuddled up together.

 

“Best one I ever had,” he says softly. He rests his chin on top of Carol’s head, listening to her breathing, the fairy lights casting their shadows on the wall.

 

Not a half bad tradition after all.    

 

—-

 

_ Christmas Day _

_ Sunday _

 

Unsurprisingly, Daryl has never had a stereotypical Christmas morning. Throughout his childhood, there was no leaving milk and cookies out for Santa Claus, and no waking up before dawn to see what toys had been brought for him. Frankly, the best Christmas gifts he ever got growing up were when his dad was either too drunk to pay attention to him, or out of town. He never had cause to put stock in the holiday, because for so many years it had been meaningless.

 

But this Christmas morning feels different.

 

This is the third Christmas he’s spent with Carol, and each subsequent year gets more meaningful than the last. That first year he’d still been pining, blushing like a schoolgirl when she’d given him his handmade vest that he still wears regularly. The second one had been their first one shared as a couple, and although the day itself was understated, it had felt like the beginning of something; like they were building up to something long-lasting.

 

But this year? This year he wakes up around six in the morning, laying flat on his back, with Carol curled up beside him. He knows she’s awake by the way she’s tracing slow, small circles along his bare chest. He tucks his chin to get a proper look at her, giving her arm a squeeze. 

 

“Mm,” she hums. 

 

“Twins asleep still?” Daryl whispers into the still morning mood.

 

“Mhm,” Carol hums.

 

“They been gettin’ better at sleeping through the whole night.”

 

“And yet here we are, both awake, not taking advantage of it,” Carol says, lifting her head up to smirk at him. “Up early like little kids waiting to go open their presents.” She scoots up the bed so she can reach over to give Daryl a long and languid kiss. “Merry Christmas,” she murmurs against his mouth. She pulls back and Daryl smiles lazily.

 

“Merry Christmas,” he tells her back, and he finds that for the first time he feels that holiday spirit everyone’s always going on about, because it’s Christmas morning, and he’s in his own bed in his own house, his arms wrapped around his beautiful girl, his kids asleep down the hall in the nursery, a tree with presents under it out in the living room, and plans for family to come join in on the celebration in a couple hours.

 

It really is Christmas.

 

“How dumb is it that I’m excited to do presents with the kids?” Carol asks. “They’re not gonna care or remember that we got them anything.” 

 

“We’ve gotten Henry somethin’ every year. At least the twins will start to understand it with time,” Daryl says. He stifles a yawn and burrows his head further down into his pillow. “‘Sides, I’m excited, too.”

 

“It’s weird, you know? Like, this is the first Christmas we’ve ever had with our own family,” Carol says, voicing what Daryl’s been thinking.

 

They both startle a little when Josie’s demanding cry comes filtering through the baby monitor. About thirty seconds later, Jesse follows suit, his cry meek compared to Josie’s wailing.

 

“Think the kids are awake,” Daryl says, and Carol snorts. “Want me to go get ‘em?” 

 

“No, let’s go together,” Carols says. “We’ll be the first two faces they see on their first Christmas.”

 

Daryl can’t argue with that. Carol lifts herself off of him and gets out of bed, stretching her arms high in the air, a few pops coming from her stiff joints. Daryl pushes the blankets aside and gets out of his side of the bed, snatching the t-shirt he discarded last night off the floor and shrugging it on up over his head.

 

On the way to the nursery, they let Henry out to join them, and the excitable dog bounds ahead of them to the babies’ room, pushing the cracked door open with his nose.

 

“Good morning, sweethearts,” Carol says over the babies’ cries when they get inside the nursery. “Merry Christmas.” They go and peak over Jesse’s crib first, who settles down almost instantly when he sees them. His crumpled face morphs into a wide smile, and he kicks his legs excitedly. Carol reaches down and scoops him up, holding him so Daryl can kiss the top of his head. 

 

“Hey, baby girl, settle down,” Daryl says as they move over to Josie’s crib. She’s not as impressed by their appearance, insisting on being changed before she entertains the idea of being social. They tag-team diaper changing, and get the kids dressed, letting Josie go sans pants for now, as that’s a battle they don’t need to have on such a nice holiday morning.

 

“Let’s feed them in bed,” Carol suggests. “My aunt and Merle won’t be here for a few hours yet. Let’s be lazy.”

 

“Works for me,” Daryl says, lifting a freshly cleaned Josie up into his arms and kissing her on one of her chubby cheeks. 

 

They get a couple bottles put together in the kitchen and carry the twins and their breakfast into the bedroom. The four of them get settled in on the bed, Carol draping the comforter over her and Daryl’s legs. Daryl whistles for Henry, and lets him curl up at the end of the mattress. 

 

“Hold on, baby,” Carol tells Jesse in her arms as she rummages around until she finds her phone.

 

“What’re you doin’?” Daryl asks, sitting up against the backboard and giving Josie her bottle. 

 

“Mood music,” Carol says, and she pulls up her music app and Fleetwood Mac filters out of her phone’s speakers. 

 

“‘Dreams’ is my favorite Christmas song,” Daryl deadpans, and Carol rolls her eyes at him.

 

“Smartass,” she says, getting Jesse to suckle on his bottle. “This is better than any goddamn Jingle Bells and you know it.”

 

“Did you hear me say otherwise?” Daryl says. Carol laughs and leans her head against his shoulder. 

 

They sit like that, the whole family resting on the bed, while Stevie Nicks gives them a lesson on thunder and players and women. He can get used to the Christmas spirit, he thinks, if it always starts out like this.

 

—-

 

“The fuck is that thing on the top of your tree?” Merle asks after he’s come inside and has hung up his coat. He’s carrying a handful of poorly-wrapped gifts in his arms, and he goes over and sits them among the others at the base of the tree. The tree itself, in lieu of a star or angel on top, has a cut-out of the Duolingo owl pasted onto a piece of cardboard and held up with wire.

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Daryl and Carol say in unison. Merle gives them a strange look but doesn’t question them further. 

 

“Hello again, you darling boy,” Barb says then, coming out of the kitchen with a full glass of wine in her hand.

 

“Auntie, it’s ten in the morning,” Carol says.

 

“Yes, but it’s  _ Christmas _ ,” Barb insists, going over to kiss Merle on the cheek. Daryl gives Carol a long-suffering look, and she smacks him in the stomach. 

 

“Gotta teach you to like real drinks,” Merle tells Barb, giving her a squeeze on her shoulder, and she shakes her head.

 

“Not a chance,” she says. “Let me guess, you’re a brown liquor man. I could never handle it. You don’t want to see me like that.”

 

“Don’t I?” Merle asks with a wink, and Barb gives a girlish giggle. Daryl mimes barfing, and Carol covers her mouth to stifle a laugh. “Hey there, sugars,” Merle says then, thankfully turning his attention to the twins who are on their playmat. He squats down and Josie beams at him when she sees his face. It’s almost more annoying than Merle’s flirting, Daryl thinks. 

 

Trying to get everyone situated is like herding cats. Jesse decides he wants to be held, Josie spits up, Carol needs to use the restroom, Henry needs let outside, Barb needs a refill of wine, etc. Finally, the whole family is sat around the tree and they begin to open gifts. 

 

“So I got this friend from back in the day,” Merle says, when Carol picks up the gift from him that’s addressed to her and Daryl. It’s wrapped in newspaper and has so much tape on it that Daryl wonders if Merle was trying to make sure it survived the apocalypse. “He’s an artsy-type, right, makes the coolest shit outta junk. I saw that and I immediately thought of y’all. Thought you could hang it up in your place.”

 

After some struggling, Carol manages to rip the paper. She pulls out a truly ugly clock that looks to be made out of beer bottle caps.

 

“It really works an’ everythin’,” Merle says excitedly. “Takes AA batteries.” 

 

Carol exchanges a glance at Daryl and they silently agree to never tell Merle how god-awful his gift is.

 

“This is awesome,” Carol says, smiling big. “Thank you.” She gives Merle a hug. 

 

“Yeah, real cool, bro, I, you know, like it and stuff,” Daryl says, thankful his lying can be misconstrued as awkwardness. 

 

(It turns out that it’s not the worst gift Merle is capable of, as he gives Barb a large wine glass that just has “HOT BITCH” written on it in big, sparkly, hot pink letters. The difference is that Barb seems to genuinely love it.) 

 

“Okay okay,” Barb says when it’s her turn, clapping excitedly. She picks up the red envelope she’d stashed under the tree and hands it to Daryl. “It’s for the both of you.”

 

Daryl tears the envelope sloppily along the fold and pulls out a postcard with a picture of the Atlanta airport on the front. He flips it over and lets Carol read it over his shoulder with him.

 

“‘One trip, to be redeemed at any time,’” Carol says aloud, furrowing her brow up at her aunt. “What does that mean?” 

 

“So I have a little extra cash I’ve been saving for a rainy day,” Barb says, grinning. “And I was sitting there thinking about how the two of you have had such a hard go of it for so long, and with all the responsibilities of being mommy and daddy you probably never get time to just enjoy one another, so I want you two to think of somewhere you want to go, and give me a little heads up to when you’re thinking, and I’ll arrange everything—childcare included, of course.”

 

“Where would we even go?” Daryl asks, at a loss. The only vacation he’s ever been on was a single road trip to Virginia Beach, and he didn’t pick the destination.

 

“Anywhere you’d like up to five thousand dollars,” says Barb. Daryl chokes on his spit and Carol’s eyebrows fly up to her hairline.

 

“Five  _ thousand  _ dollars?” Carol says. “No no no, that’s way too much. Besides, we can’t spend money like that on something frivolous. We’ve got medical bills, and the kids are growing out of their zero to three months outfits, and—”

 

“Nope, I won’t hear it, not allowed,” Barb says, putting up a hand. “This is my money to do with as I please, and it is not going to a single bill unless that bill is to a hotel, you understand?” Softer, she says to Carol, “Honey, I regret every single day that I wasn’t there more to help you with Jessica. We had such a strange relationship, your mother and I, and I let that color how I handled her illness, and unfortunately that blinded me to all the work your father was putting on you. I didn’t know the extent of it until those last few months, and by then you had already grown up far beyond your years. Let me make up for that now. Let me help you with those children of yours, let me pay for this trip, and give you a little less load on your shoulders, alright? Please?”

 

“You don’t have to give us things because you feel like you need to atone for something,” Carol says quietly, frowning at her lap.

 

“It’s not an atonement, it’s a gift. You’re my niece, and I love you, and I want to see you happy. And Daryl, no matter what, you’re my nephew, and I love you just the same.”

 

“Thank you, ma’am,” Daryl mutters, ducking his own head as well. He hazards a glance at Carol, who’s shaking her head incredulously. Daryl reaches over and squeezes her knee in reassurance.

 

“Okay,” she says finally, wrapping Barb in a warm embrace. “Thank you, Auntie.” 

 

“Makes that wine we scored from Jesus to give to her seem kinda lame, huh?” Daryl mutters under his breath to Carol when she sits back down, and she huffs in agreement. 

 

“You guys got some plans to make, but finish presents first. I want to see what you lovebirds got each other. Your gifts are always so cute,” says Barb. 

 

“Yeah, get on it,  _ lovebirds _ ,” Merle says, smirking. Daryl shoots him a glare before picking up a thin, square present at the back of the tree and handing it to Carol.

 

“Here,” he says shyly. She takes it with a playful grin. She tears the paper off, tossing it aside haphazardly, and then stares at the gift in her hands, her mouth slowly falling open.

 

“No fucking way,” she whispers.

 

“It’s an original,” Daryl says.

 

“No  _ fucking  _ way.” Daryl laughs as she examines the gift thoroughly in her hand. “Daryl, this is  _ signed _ .”

 

“Sure is,” he says, unable to keep the hint of pride from his voice. He’d been uncharacteristically confident about this particular present.

 

“You gonna tell us what it is, or what?” Merle says impatiently from his spot on the couch.

 

“It’s a mother fucking original,  _ signed  _ copy of Fleetwood Mac’s record ‘Rumours,’” Carol says, still incredulous. “Daryl, do you have any idea how much this is worth?”

 

“Yeah, I figured it doubles as security. If we find ourselves in a bind we can pawn it for cash,” he says, grinning. She scoffs.

 

“Like hell we can,” she says. “Pawn the twins off, no one’s touching this record.” He laughs. She stares up at him, shaking his head. “ _ How _ ?”

 

“Dude came into the shop with his car just straight up fucked, and he didn’t have the cash, so he started tryna barter with me. I wasn’t havin’ it o’ course, ‘til he mentioned that he had a bunch of original records worth a lot of money, and he started namin’ them. He got to ‘Rumours’ and I stopped him in his tracks and told him that if he could prove it was legit I’d fix his car and just charge him for parts. Dude did it with no hesitation, and when I asked him if he was sure, he said, ‘Yeah, my ex-wife wanted the house in the divorce and I’d only let her have it if she gave up somethin’ she loved. I don’t give a shit about these records.’ So there’s some super pissed off woman out there, but at least now the record’s in the hands of someone who will appreciate it. I guess?”

 

“Oh for sure, this is...damn.” She shakes her head again and pulls Daryl over to give him a long kiss.

 

“Ahem,” Merle says.

 

“Shut up, I’m not done,” Carol says to him, her voice muffled as her lips are still pressed against Daryl’s. She kisses him for another long moment before finally pulling away. “Now my gift looks like shit,” she says. “I should burn it and get you something better.” 

 

“Nah, gimme what you got. I always tell you I don’t got high standards. The fact that you got me anything at all is more than enough.”

 

Carol scrunches her nose, hesitating. With a sigh, she snatches up the rectangular gift, meticulously wrapped, she has set aside for him.

 

“Sorry in advance for it being lame,” she says.

 

“Shush,” Daryl says. He rips the paper apart, feeling vaguely bad for ruining her neat wrapping, and he pulls out what looks like a thick book. After further examination, he realizes it’s a photo album. He furrows his brow and flips it open and his heart jumps to his throat at the sight.

 

Inside there are pictures of his family. There’s the selfie Carol made him take with him on their first ever Friendsgiving. There’s Henry wearing the sweater she made for him. And there are about a million pictures of the twins. Some of them are clearly pictures that were taken with purpose, but some are just candids that Carol must have taken on a whim. There’s him talking with Jesse, and another of him laughing with Josie. He flips until he gets to the end of the pictures, with plenty of space still left, presumably for more pictures as the twins grow.

 

“You only have one photo of your mom,” Carol says softly, watching him go through it all over again. “So I wanted you to have something with as many fucking pictures of your family you can cram into it. Sorry that it’s not much, but—”

 

“It’s perfect,” Daryl whispers, not trusting himself to say more. He forces himself to look up from the page to meet her eye. Whatever Carol sees there she seems to understand, because she smiles gently and nods.

 

“You’re welcome,” she whispers back. 

 

Daryl blows a breath through pursed lips and looks back down at a picture of Henry resting his head between the twins. He’s awash with the reminder of just how deep his love for his family goes, and is overwhelmed to know that he’s loved just as strongly in return.

 

Easily the best Christmas he’s ever had.

 

Easily the best gift he’s ever received.

 

Easily the best family he could ever have.

 

—-

 

"Today was a good day," Carol says. They're back in bed in the position they started the day out in. Daryl smiles at her, rubbing his hand up and down her back.

 

"Figure we've earned a few of those by now, dontcha think?" he says.

 

"Can you believe my aunt? What the hell are we gonna do with a five thousand dollar vacation?"

 

"Camp?"

 

"For five thousand dollars?"

 

"Camp for a really long time?"

 

Carol laughs.

 

"We'll figure it out later," she says. There's a pause and Daryl hears her swallow.

 

"What is it?" he asks. She looks up at him, twisting her mouth.

 

"Should we have sex?" she asks.

 

"You mean right now?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"That's all up to you, sweetheart. Do you  _ want _ to have sex?"

 

She worries her lower lip between her teeth.

 

"I want to want to," she says finally. "Maybe that's enough. Maybe we just have to do it."

 

"Mm," Daryl hums, unconvinced. "I don't think that's how we should go into it. I don't want you lookin' at it like an obligation, or like it's on some kinda timeline. We'll get there when we get there."

 

"It's just like I've hyped it up so much in my head that I'm nervous, and I think that my antidepressants might be fucking with my libido, and—"

 

"Shh," Daryl says softly. "You don't gotta explain yourself to me. Whatever your reasons, they're fine."

 

"You promise you're not just saying that?" Carol asks nervously. He kisses the top of her head.

 

"'Course I do, baby," he says. "We got all the time in the world."

 

—-

 

_ New Year’s Eve _

_ Saturday _

 

“Okay, I’ve been waiting to give you guys these for ages now,” Glenn says “I wanted to give them to you on Christmas, but delivery was backed up and I just got them Thursday.” He hands Daryl and Rick two identical, gift-wrapped packages.

 

Rick’s house is full of people Daryl went to high school with, and there’s music he doesn’t listen to blaring, making his head hurt. He looks over his shoulder and smiles to himself at the sight of Carol laughing and dancing with Michonne, Maggie, and Tara, a red solo cup in her hand. He turns back to Glenn and stares at him.

 

“Do we open these then?” he asks, and Glenn rolls his eyes.

 

“ _ Yes _ , obviously,” he says. 

 

Daryl and Rick exchange a look and shrug. They start tearing off the paper, opening to reveal identical Amazon boxes.

 

“Cool, cardboard boxes, you shouldn’t have,” Rick says.

 

“Ha ha, you’re the first person on the planet to make that joke,” Glenn deadpans. “Open the damn boxes.”

 

Snorting, Daryl takes his keys out of his pocket and uses one to cut the tape along the box seam. He let’s Rick use it, too, and waits until he’s got his ready before opening his. Together they pull the box flaps to the side, and in perfect synch, they look at each other, set their jaws, and then glare at Glenn.

 

“You shouldn’t have,” Rick says again.

 

“You’re welcome,” says Glenn, grinning.

 

“He meant it literally,” Daryl says. Glenn waves a dismissive hand.

 

Sighing, Daryl pulls out the three items in the box: A small container of different types of dice, a thin package labeled, ‘D&D character sheets,’ and a book called,  _ Dungeons & Dragons for Beginners _ .”

 

“What part of no do you not understand?” Rick asks, pulling out his identical items. 

 

“So I figure you guys can work on your character sheets over the next couple weeks,” Glenn says, ignoring Rick. “They have examples to show you how to do it. Send them to me once you’re done, and then I’ll tell you how we'll get started with the campaign.” 

 

“Oh my God, I’m gonna go see what Carol’s doing,” Daryl says, shoving his “gifts” back into the box and getting up from the couch. 

 

“You can’t run from it forever,” Glenn calls over to him as he leaves. Without turning around, Daryl flips him the bird. 

 

“Hey,” Daryl says, coming up behind Carol and putting his hands on her waist. 

 

“Look, it’s my handsome boyfriend!” Carol says to her friends. She turns her head to kiss him, making Daryl blush as Maggie, Michonne, and Tara all go, “Ooh.” 

 

“Shut up,” he mumbles at them. To Carol he asks, “Having a good time?” 

 

“Yes, sir,” she says, slurring a little.

 

“You drunk?” he asks, smiling.

 

“Yes, sir,” she says, and Daryl snorts. Ignoring her friends, Daryl kisses her cheek, and then startles when his phone starts vibrating in his pocket.

 

“Is that your phone or are you just happy to see me?” Carol asks, Daryl’s pant's pocket with his phone in it pressed up against her side. He furrows his brow.

 

“That don’t make any sense,” he says laughing as he reaches into his pocket. “Are you implying that boners vibrate?”

 

“Shush, I’m drunk, I don’t hafta make sense,” Carol argues. Daryl rolls his eyes fondly while checking his caller ID. “Who is it?” Carol asks. 

 

“Dunno,” he says, shrugging. He swipes to accept the call and puts the phone to one ear, while plugging his other with his finger to try and drown out the music. “Yeah?” he says into the receiver.

 

“This Daryl Dixon?” says an annoyed man on the other end. 

 

“Yeah?” Daryl says. “Who’s askin’?”

 

“Listen, I’m bartendin’ down at Main Street. I need you to come get your piece of shit brother.”

 

Daryl closes his eyes and groans internally. 

 

“What’d the asshole do now?” he asks.

 

“Came in here out of his mind on somethin’, god knows what, demanding I serve him. I wasn’t about to give a drink to someone in that state, I ain’t stupid. I told him to get the fuck out, and he pitched one hell of a fit, but we got him to go, but now he’s out front tryna start shit with every person that walks by. The dick’s costin’ me business, and if he don’t get off my property I’m callin’ the cops. So either you get him outta here, or I do.”

 

Daryl’s half-tempted to tell the bartender to go ahead and call the police. He does a quick debate before finally saying,

 

“I’ll get him. Give me ten minutes.” He hangs up the phone, shoves it in his pocket, covers his face with his hands, and says, “Fuck!” loudly, startling Carol and the girls.

 

“What is it?” Carol asks, looking at him. He drops his hands.

 

“Merle,” he says flatly. 

 

“What happened?” she asks, searching his eyes anxiously.

 

“Same thing that always happens,” Daryl says. “I gotta go get him, babe, can you chill here?” 

 

“I mean, yeah, but are you sure you wanna go?” she asks, taking him by the arm. 

 

“No one else is gonna, unless they’re wearin’ a badge.” 

 

“It’s not your responsibility to clean up his messes, Daryl,” she tells him softly, and he ducks his head. She sighs, nodding. “Okay. Okay, I get it. Go ahead. You haven’t been drinking, right?”

 

“No,” Daryl says. “I’m designated driver, ‘member? Wouldn’t mind bein’ drunk right now, though.” He grinds his teeth, looking her over. “You sure you’ll be okay?”

 

“I’m fine. Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?”

 

“No,” Daryl says quickly. “No you stay here. This ain’t somethin’ you gotta see. Hang here with your friends and don't let this ruin your night.” He gives her a quick kiss. “I’ll be back to get you after I deal with this, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Carol says, knitting her brows together. He gives her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, nods to the girls, and heads towards the door.

 

“Where are you going?” Rick calls out to him from the couch.

 

“Gotta do somethin’, ask Carol about it,” Daryl calls back, pulling on his coat. He leaves without another word. He gets in Carol’s Chevy and starts down the road.

 

Merle isn’t hard to spot. He’s out on the sidewalk in front of the Main Street bar, yelling obscenities at passersby. Daryl pulls up along the curb, puts the car in park, and leans over to roll down the manual passenger side window. 

 

“Get in the car, Merle,” he yells. Merle looks at him and laughs.

 

“Baby brother!” he yells back. “Come to save the day, huh? Guess I’m caught, huh?” He holds up his hands. “Red-handed, huh?” 

 

“Jesus Christ, just get in the fucking car,” Daryl says, losing patience.

 

“You gonna make me?”

 

“No, but I’ll let them call the cops on you, and you’ll be back in the slammer in a second, so either get in the car or wait for the officers.” 

 

Merle scoffs, shaking his head. He seems to think it through, before coming over and opening the door and plopping inside.

 

“Man, fuck the pigs, I ain’t done shit.”

 

“Yeah, sure, not a damn thing,” Daryl says, looking at Merle, whose pupils are blown wide. Merle starts rambling about nothing and everything, and Daryl ignores him, pulling onto the highway, fuming.

 

“Where you takin’ me, my place is back that’a way,” Merle asks, finally noticing the direction they’re headed.

 

“To the hospital,” Daryl says flatly. “Gonna make you go sweat this out.” 

 

“Oh like hell you are,” Merle says, reaching over to try and grab the steering wheel. Daryl swerves a little, and swats his hand away, swearing.

 

“Fuck you, man, I’m drivin’.”

 

“I ain’t goin’ to no detox.” 

 

“Well that’s where I’m droppin’ you off. You do what you want once you get there. But tell you what? Once you’re outta my car, forget my number.”

 

“Pfft,” Merle scoffs, rolling his eyes at the ceiling of the car. “You are such a  _ buzzkill _ , baby brother, it’s a fuckin’  _ holiday _ . I only smoked a little. I wasn’t plannin’ on makin’ a habit out of it.”

 

“You never do,” Daryl mutters.

 

“You ain’t keepin’ those kids from me, man, I love them.”

 

“I ain’t the one keepin’ them away,” Daryl argues.

 

“Okay, so I fucked up! I’m a human bein’ ain’t I? People fuck up sometimes. You don’t get to take my family from me ‘cause of it.”

 

“When it comes to my kids I can do whatever I damn well please.”

 

“ _ No _ ,” Merle, says, hitting Daryl in the arm with a closed fist. The car swerves again.

 

“Fuck  _ off _ , dude, do you wanna crash?”

 

“You ain’t doin’ this to me for one fuck up, we ain’t goin’ to the goddamn hospital,” Merle yells. He reaches over and takes hold of the wheel again, except this time he gets a grip on it. He yanks on it, trying to get Daryl to turn around. Startled, Daryl mixes up the brake and the accelerator, speeding up on accident as the car starts to lose control.

 

“Let go, man,” Daryl shouts.

 

“Turn around,” Merle shouts back.

 

And the last thing Daryl remembers is the sight of the light pole coming towards them, and the sound of broken glass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this has been done for hours but i had to edit it covertly at work and i haven't been able to until now. -eye roll emoji-
> 
> there's a little kid at my work rn who perpetually has snot under nose, and i was thinking of her when i wrote ryan. i also get told about kids' dead pets and grandparents a lot. idk, children are strange.
> 
> anyway, cliffhanger! see you sunday!
> 
> byee,  
> -diz


	23. The Hardest Part of Dying

_ New Year’s Day _

_ Sunday _

 

There are sirens getting louder and louder, and Daryl remembers his mother. The wailing noise is like that of the fire trucks, and the flashing lights he can make out from behind his closed eyes are of the same colors and urgency. For a split second he wonders if that’s where he is—if everything he’s thought has happened has been one long dream—and instead he’s still standing outside his flaming home. But then his sense returns to him. His childhood home is long gone, returning only to him in memory and therapy sessions. His mother’s been ash for over a decade. These are different sirens, in a different place, and the years since the fire have been real.

 

Which then begs the question, what is going on? And why can’t he seem to make heads or tails of his thoughts, as though they’re right there, but just out of his grasp?

 

“Sir, can you hear me?” someone asks him, and they sound like they’re underwater. He opens his mouth to speak, except his mouth doesn’t actually open and no words form. He can’t seem to get a hold of the right synapses to control his movements. There is a terrible commotion happening around him, all of it seeming distant and near at the same time and it’s making him even more confused.

 

Okay, he tells himself, one thing at a time.

 

_ Where am I? _

 

He fumbles to collect whatever immediate memories he still has.

 

The party.

 

The phone call.

 

Merle.

 

_ Merle _ . He’d had a fight with Merle, and his doped-up brother had taken ahold of the wheel. There was glass crashing, he remembers that. Putting it all together, he comes to a conclusion: They must have crashed.

 

Carol is going to be devastated about her Chevy.

 

_ Carol _ .

 

Was she with him? Were the twins? He can’t remember, doesn’t think so, but what if they were?

 

“My kids?” Daryl says, his words croaky and wak. “Carol?” He can’t open his eyes, but he feels people shuffling around him; surely one of them can hear him. “My kids and Carol, are they okay?”

 

“Who’s Carol?’ says the same underwater voice from before. Daryl wracks his brain for the right word and can’t seem to find it.

 

“My wife,” he says. The word feels ill-fitting, like a pair of shoes that are one size too big, but he thinks it’s close enough. “Carol’s my wife. And we have two kids. Were they with me? Are they okay?”

 

“There was only one other person in the car with you, and the paramedics are already looking at him.”

 

_ They weren’t in the car. _

 

Thank God.

 

But Merle was.

 

“My brother.”

 

“Is that who your passenger was?” says Underwater Voice. Daryl’s vaguely aware of hands touching him and aches and pains radiating through different parts of his body.

 

“Careful what you give him, he could OD,” Daryl mumbles, getting exhausted from all this  _ thinking _ . His head starts lolling to the side.

 

“Try and keep your neck straight, we’re not sure if you have any spinal injuries. Can someone get me a brace?” Underwater Voice calls to some distant someone. “What’s your brother on?”

 

“Dope.”

 

“Meth?”

 

“Mm.”

 

“Are you on anything?”

 

“No,” Daryl says, trying not to fade out, but Underwater Voice is getting even further away.

  
  


“Have you been drinking tonight?”

 

“No.”

 

“You need to tell us the truth so we can treat you safely.”

 

“I was designated driver,” Daryl mumbles. “Was s’posed to pick up my wife. Someone needs to pick her up, I promised I wouldn’t be gone long, I just had to deal with my brother.”

 

“Can you tell me your name?”

 

“She’s waiting on me.”

 

“I’m sure she can wait a little longer, now can you tell me your name?”

 

“Daryl,” he says. He’s slipping.

 

“Okay Daryl, you’re pretty banged up. We have to get you to the hospital. We’re gonna take real good care of you, alright?”

 

“Someone tell my wife I’ll be late,” Daryl says. “Tell her I’m sorry and I love her and I’ll be late.” He doesn’t hear the response. His mind decides that that’s quite enough for now. It goes blank and just like that he’s out like a light.

 

—-

 

“You got a lot of nerve showing your face anywhere near me.”

 

“Just wanted to come check on him.”

 

“I don’t give a damn. Do you think I’m stupid? Daryl’s a fantastic driver, I know this couldn’t have all been on him. What’d you do, huh? Start shit with him? Distract him ‘cause your stupid ass had to go and get high? You know what? It doesn’t even matter. Either way he never would have been in that car if he didn’t feel so damn obligated to clean up after your shit.”

 

“Look, I know I fucked up. I know I—”

 

“Oh, you’ve done more than fuck up this time. He could have  _ died _ . Look at him right now. Look in that room and look at what you did to your brother.”

 

“Carol—”

 

“You could have taken him from his children. You could have taken him from  _ me _ . And for what, Merle? For some dope? God, I hope it was worth it. I hope it was the best fucking high of your life.” 

 

There’s a pounding in Daryl’s temple that isn’t helped by the screaming going on in the hallway. He’s too out of it to try and make sense of the argument, and frankly, he doesn’t care. All he wants is some  _ silence _ , for Christ’s sake.

 

“Will whoever’s yelling please shut the fuck up?” he mumbles, his throat dry. The fighting stops abruptly, and hurried footsteps trail into his room. Soft hands gently take hold of his left one, and he forces his eyes open.

 

“Hey,” Carol whispers, searching his face. She looks like she hasn’t slept, and like she’s been crying. Her hair is loose and messy, and she’s wearing the same clothes he saw her in last, and Daryl realizes he has no idea how much time has passed. He has a lot of questions, but doesn’t have a clue where to start, so he simply says,

 

“Hey. Nice sight to wake up to.”

 

You would have thought he’d just recited a passionate soliloquy judging by the way Carol immediately bursts into tears. She bends down to kiss his knuckles.

 

“Don’t cry,” Daryl says, not 100% here but knowing that he hates seeing her sad.

 

“Oh no, I’m gonna cry,” Carol says, giving a wet laugh. Her lower lip trembles as she looks him over again, and a fresh wave of tears fall. Daryl glances at the door to the hallway just in time to see his brother walk away. He considers calling out after him, but there are already too many things to sort out as is. Whatever that situation is, it’ll have to go on the backburner.

 

“Where are the twins?” he asks, taking his gaze back to Carol.

 

“Back in town with my aunt,” Carol says, wiping her eyes with a finger. Daryl frowns.

 

“Are we not in town?” he asks, and Carol shakes her head.

 

“No, baby, we’re in Atlanta. You were airlifted here. The hospital at home didn’t have enough staff available, and you couldn’t wait.” She ghosts her hand over his forehead like she’s afraid to touch too hard, pushing back his hair. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Kinda pissed I got to ride in a helicopter and don’t even remember it,” says Daryl, and Carol laughs through the tears that are still sliding down her face. Daryl gives her a small smile and asks, “What happened?”

 

“You were in a car accident.”

 

“Figured that much. How bad?”

 

“Bad. The car hit a pole and did a full 360 degree flip. The paramedic said—” She pauses, voice cracking. She takes a steading breath. “—The paramedic said that she was surprised neither one of you was DOA. As it stands, you both could have been a hell of a lot worse off.”

 

“And how bad off am I exactly?” Daryl asks. For the first time he takes stock of his surroundings.

 

He’s in a small room with dim lighting, but daylight is filtering in making it brighter. He can tell it’s cloudy out, but he can’t tell what time of day it is. Beside him there are several beeping machines, and he traces their various cords and wires back to his body. He’s got a clamp on his right index finger monitoring his pulse, he’s got something attached to his chest leading up to a heart monitor, and there’s an IV in the crook of his right arm.

 

He tries to assess if he feels any pain, but if anything, besides his headache, he just feels high, and maybe a little sore. His left leg feels weird, like it’s abnormally stiff, and when he tries to move it he winces, a dull ache snaking through it.

 

“You hit your head pretty bad and you have muscle strain in your neck from the whiplash,” Carol says, sounding like she’s parroting what’s been told to her. “The airbags deployed and burned your face a little, but they don’t think it’ll scar. You were in and out of consciousness I guess, but they said there was no bleeding in your brain or anything, so that’s good. You’ve got bruising on your ribs, and maybe a hairline fracture. There are minor cuts from the glass, and obviously you’re going to be sore and bruised up from all the jolting around. The big one is your leg, though.”

 

“What happened to my leg?” Daryl asks, and Carol gives him a sad smile, squeezing his hand.

 

“You’re not gonna like it,” she says. “The impact cracked your left femur in three places. They had to do emergency surgery to reset it. They put in a titanium rod, I guess, which is pretty hardcore. It’s gonna take a while to heal, though. You’ll have to do physical therapy, and it could take anywhere from a few months to a year to fully heal. That doesn’t mean you’ll be on your ass that whole time, though, so try not to get too worked up about that. And they’re hopeful you’ll regain full use of your leg.”

 

“Hopeful,” Daryl repeats, grimacing.

 

“Yes, hopeful, which is better than doubtful, so let’s take it as a win, okay? They say as far as femur breaks go, yours were at least pretty clean. You weren’t in surgery all that long, considering.” 

 

“What’d they put me on after?” Daryl asks, looking at his IV bag, as if he has the first clue of how it works and what’s in it. “I feel stoned.”

 

“Yeah, you probably are. I’m pretty sure you’re swimming in narcotics right now.”

 

“Mm, well next time the nurse or doc or whoever comes in here, tell ‘em they can cut that shit.” 

 

“Baby, you’re probably gonna want it. I don’t think you get how fucked up you got. I bet that without pain meds it’s gonna hurt like a bitch. 

 

“They can give me Tylenol or ibuprofen or something, I don’t want no narcs.” Carol looks at him doubtfully and he sighs. “I don’t want ‘em, Carol. With my family history? I don’t want the risk.”

 

After a beat, she nods.

 

“‘Kay, I’ll help you remember to tell them. If you don’t want that IV, though, feel free to pass it my way, ‘cause I’ve had one hell of a day and could use a nice high,” she jokes, and Daryl snorts.

 

“None for you neither,” he says, bringing up his hand to her face. She presses her lips to his thumb and helps him lower his shaking arm back down. He chews on his bottom lip before asking, “How’s he doin’?”

 

A flash of anger crosses Carol’s eyes.

 

“Not as bad as he should be,” she says, and Daryl meets her eye.

 

“Carol.”

 

She huffs a sigh. She says, “Broken collarbone, mild concussion, and lots of bruising. You got the brunt of it ‘cause the pole hit the driver’s side. You heard me and him earlier, you know he’s up and about. The worst part of the whole thing for him was probably sobering up.” Daryl stays silent, and she sets her jaw. “Look, if you want me to not be mad then tell me he’s not the reason you crashed. Tell me the accident was your fault.” Daryl blows out a breath.

 

“We was arguing and he took the wheel. Made me lose control of the car.” 

 

Carol gives a truly nasty, tight-lipped smile as she shakes her head.

 

“The bastard,” she says.

 

“He didn’t mean to. He was freaking out ‘cause I told him he couldn’t see the kids anymore.”

 

“Yeah, well, whose fault is that?”

 

“He didn’t want to lose his family.”

 

“You could have died, Daryl. It was dumb luck that you didn’t.”

 

“But I did survive. He wasn’t in his right mind. My brother’s a fuck up, but he’d never try to hurt me like this on purpose.”

 

“Why are you defending him?” Carol says loudly, and Daryl flinches.

 

“Can we not?” he asks quietly, and Carol’s hackles immediately lower.

 

“Sorry,” she says. “Sorry, I just...when they called me they wouldn’t tell me anything, and it took forever to get here, and the whole car ride I didn’t know if…” Her breath is shaky, and she leans forward and rests her forehead on the edge of the mattress, letting a few good sobs wrack her tired body.

 

“I’m okay, sweetheart, it’s okay,” Daryl says gently, wishing he was physically able to hold her. She gathers herself, clearing her throat, and looks up at him.

 

“Is this how it felt?” she asks.

 

“Hm?” Daryl asks, furrowing his brow.

 

“When I almost bled out. When I was suicidal. Did the thought of losing me—did it hurt like this?”

 

Daryl regards her for a long moment.

 

“Hurt like nothin’ ever has,” he says quietly. Carol swallows.

 

“If it was half as bad as this then no wonder you don’t need pain meds,” she whispers. “I love you. I love you  _ so _ much.”

 

“I love you, too,” Daryl says “And you ain’t gettin’ rid of me that easy. I’m still kickin’, baby, so dry them tears ‘cause this ain’t nothin’ we can’t deal with, alright?”

 

“Alright,” Carol says, wiping her face and straightening herself up.

 

“Atta girl,” Daryl says. “Ah, but, sorry about your car, though. I take it she wasn’t as lucky as me?”

 

“No,” Carol says with a resigned sigh. “They tell me she’s more than totalled. RIP Rose.”

 

“She was halfway to the grave anyhow. Back to one vehicle and the bike again, though.”

 

“We’ll manage,” Carol says. “Glad you convinced me to get the expensive insurance. If we’d had just liability this would have been even more of a pain.”

 

“I’m a mechanic, I’ve seen just how fucked a car can get.”

 

“Thank you for thinking ahead for us, then,” she says. A thought seems to come to her then, and out of nowhere she breaks into a devilish grin. “Ha, you know what I just remembered?” she asks. Daryl narrows his eyes. 

 

“What?” he asks suspiciously. Carol leans over so she can whisper in his ear.   
  


“Apparently I’m your wife,” she says, and then pulls back, smirking at Daryl’s bemused expression. Then, suddenly, it hits him, and he goes instantly red. The beeping of his heart monitor speeds up and he wants to sink into the floor.

 

“Who told you I said that?” he asks, cringing.

 

“I was at the party and I got a call and the guy said, ‘Is this Carol Dixon?’ and I told him no, but this is Carol Miller, and he said he was looking for Daryl Dixon’s wife, Carol, and was I her?” 

 

“Jesus Christ,” Daryl says, turning his head away from her and ignoring the rush of vertigo that hits him from moving too fast.

 

“I think he thought he’d accidentally caught you in an affair or something. He said you were insistent that you had a wife and kids, and I told him you had kids with me but we weren’t married, and I think he was worried you got your wife and your mistress’ names mixed up. I was freaking out too much to give a shit, but in retrospect, that was hilarious.” 

 

“I swear to God it was ‘cause I forgot the word for girlfriend,” Daryl says pleadingly. “I could barely my own name.”

 

“Relax,” Carol says, taking his hand again and smiling kindly. “I know. I’m just teasin’.”

 

“Still, ‘m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be.”

 

“‘Kay.” 

 

“Oh good, you’re awake,” comes a voice at the door. Daryl glances over to see a nurse heading in. She immediately starts reading his vitals while she says, “How are you feeling?”

 

“Stoned. Can you take me off the narcs?” Daryl asks. The nurse frowns.

 

“You’ll probably want the pain management.” 

 

“I’d rather have the pain than the drugs. I’ll take Tylenol.”

 

“Hm,” the nurse tasks. “Alright, well, let’s go over it with the doctor. She’ll want to look you over now that you’re awake anyway.” To Carol, she says, “We’re going to check him out. Shouldn’t take long. I can come get you when we’re done.”

 

“She can stay,” Daryl says quickly, grasp tightening around her hand.

 

“I should go let everyone know you’re okay,” Carol says gently. “I promise I’m not going far.”

 

“Everyone?” Daryl asks.

 

“Glenn, Rick, Michonne, Maggie—seems like half the party came to Atlanta to see you. So popular.”

 

“Pfft,” is what Daryl has to say to that. She smiles.

 

“I’ll be back,” she says, kissing him on the cheek. “Oh, and Daryl?”

 

“Hm?” he asks. Carol glances up at the nurse who is busy making notes on Daryl’s chart. She puts her lips to his ear and whispers,

 

“Carol Dixon? Didn’t sound half bad.” 

 

She straightens up and gives him a wink. She’s out the door before Daryl can even process the statement.

 

“Do you have any nausea, Daryl?” the nurses asks him, flipping through his chart. He snorts.

 

_ Now he does. _

 

—-

 

“Hell of a way to start out the new year, dummy.”

 

Daryl looks up from his bed and sees Glenn and Rick standing in the doorway to his hospital room. 

 

“Hell of a way to get out of New Year’s resolutions,” Glenn adds. Daryl cracks a smile.

 

“Hey, guys,” he says. Carol, who’s sitting in a chair next to him, pats his forearm.

 

“I’ll let you have some time with them,” she says to him softly. 

 

“You don’t have to go, Carol,” Rick says, but she shakes her head.

 

“It’s okay, you go ahead. I’ll go find something to eat and come back in a bit. Just remember, I want him back at some point.”

 

“Aye aye, captain,” Glenn says, saluting. Carol rolls her eyes at him and gives Daryl a quick kiss.

 

“I’ll be back, I promise,” she whispers. He nods. 

 

“Love you,” he whispers back.

 

“You too.” She kisses him one more time and then squeezes past Glenn and Rick and heads down the hall. The boys come over, Glenn taking the seat Carol just vacated, and Rick pulling up the other chair from the corner of the room.

 

“You look like shit,” Glenn says, and Daryl snorts.

 

“So do you,” he mutters. “Least I got an excuse.” 

 

“Glad to see the accident didn’t kill your sense of humor,” says Rick, while Glenn flips Daryl off.

 

“How bad do I look really, though? I ain’t bothered to look in a mirror. Carol took one look at me and cried, so I can’t imagine I’m winnin’ any beauty contests anytime soon.”

 

“You’re definitely banged up, but mostly it’s just all these machines that make you seem hurt,” Rick says, glancing up at Daryl’s heart monitor. “Other than a little bit of a burn mark on your cheek and some tiny cuts you can’t really see much of how fucked up you really are.”

 

“Don’t you worry, bud, your sultry woodsmanness is still in tact,” says Glenn.

 

“Mm, well thank god for that.”

 

“How are you feeling?” Rick asks, more seriously. 

 

“I had them take me off the pain meds, so pretty shitty,” he says. His leg is throbbing and he’s been trying hard not to think about it. 

 

“Why’d you do that? You broke the strongest bone in your body in three different places. That’s gotta hurt,” says Glenn.

 

“Don’t like my head bein’ foggy,” Daryl says. “And didn’t wanna get in the habit of usin’ narcs. ‘Specially since drugs are what got me stuck here in the first place.”

 

“Not you using drugs, though,” Rick says darkly, and Daryl casts him a look, chewing on his lower lip.

 

“Yeah,” he says after a beat.

 

“Have you seen him?” Glenn asks. Daryl shakes his head and then regrets it, cringing as the muscles in his neck ache, and the pounding in his temple makes his stomach churn. He waits for it to pass before saying,

 

“He was here earlier when I was asleep. He and Carol were arguing in the hallway. She’s out for his blood right now.” 

 

“He’s not exactly my favorite person at the moment either, truth be told,” Glenn says, and Rick hums in agreement. 

 

“Carol told us that he’s the reason why you crashed,” he says. Daryl pinches the bridge of his nose, ignoring the tug in his rib at the movement.

 

“Yeah, I dunno,” he says, letting his hand drop back to his side. “Every time I think about him my head just hurts worse.”

 

“I get it. But you did give him an ultimatum, right? And he broke it,” Rick says. Daryl twists his mouth.

 

“Yeah,” he says quietly, pretending to be transfixed by the pulse monitor on his finger. 

 

“I guess addiction isn’t always as cut and dry as that, though, huh?” Glenn says, picking up on Daryl’s reservation. Daryl huffs a breath of laughter.

 

“Is anything?” he asks, still staring at his hand. “It all seems like one big fuckin’ mess.”

 

The other two are silent for a minute, because is he wrong? 

 

“Scared the shit out of us, brother,” Rick says finally. 

 

“For real. We had no idea how bad off you were,” Glenn says. “Carol was there losing her mind and could barely get a word out, Rick was the only sober one out of any of us, so he had to try and keep calm so he could get us to here to Atlanta. They told us you were airlifted and we could only figure that meant you were seriously injured.”

 

“No one said it, but I think we were all half-expecting to get here and...you know. Be too late.” 

 

“Sorry I scared y’all,” Daryl mutters, closing his eyes and leaning back against his pillow, sighing. 

 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Rick says. 

 

“We were just worried,” Glenn adds. “It was a huge relief to hear it was a broken leg and some bruises.”

 

“Yeah, real relieved about that leg,” Daryl says, grimacing. He opens his eyes and casts his stiff left leg a dirty look.

 

“Better than being dead,” Glenn says.

 

“I know,” Daryl says. “But I ain’t lookin’ forward to bein’ crippled for months on end. I hate that. I hate thinkin’ I don’t have autonomy. It feels too much like…” he trails off, waving a dismissive hand.

 

“Like what?” Rick presses gently. Daryl frowns, knitting his brows together.

 

“Like bein’ helpless, and I don’t wanna be helpless, ‘cause that’s how he made me feel. All the fuckin’ time.”

 

“Your dad?” asks Glenn. Daryl gives a miniscule nod.

 

“That was always his goal, you know? Beat me into submission, ‘til I felt like I couldn’t do nothin’ for myself but sit around and hurt. And now here I am, with more fuckin’ scars when I’m already covered in ‘em, except instead of it just bein’ me I have a whole family that needs me to be able to take care of ‘em, and how the fuck am I gonna do that on one leg? I don’t know how I’m gonna work, or how I’m gonna carry around the twins and walk on crutches at the same time. Plus the hospital bills and the cost of physical therapy. More stress is exactly the opposite of what Carol needs right now, and I—”

 

“Dude, chill,” Glenn says, reaching out and squeezing his wrist. “You’re alive. You almost weren’t. That’s the one thing that couldn’t have been fixed. Everything else you’ll be able to handle.”

 

“We’re not gonna leave you in the dust, either, brother,” Rick says. “Whenever we’re in town we’ll come help you out, and mine and Glenn’s parents already were asking us if you needed anything. Just one step at a time, alright?”

 

Daryl stares at Rick.

 

“Was that a broken leg pun?” he deadpans, and his friends both laugh.

 

“Not on purpose, but I suppose it’s fitting,” Rick says, grinning. 

 

“You’ll be okay, man,” says Glenn, and Daryl sighs.

 

“I know. I know, I’m just bitchin’.”

 

“I think you’re entitled to a  little bitching,” says Rick.

 

“I also miss my kids,” Daryl says, chewing on his bottom lip. “They’re sayin’ they’re gonna keep me in here two weeks minimum, and I can’t ask Carol to come back and forth between home and Atlanta that whole time. I ain’t never been away from ‘em that long, though. Hell, this might be the longest I’ve ever gone without seein’ ‘em.” 

 

“They’ll be there waiting for you when you get home,” Rick says.

 

“I know, it’s just that they grow so fast, and I don’t wanna miss any of it.” He blows out a resigned breath and looks at his friends. “My leg fuckin’ hurts, guys,” he says.

 

“Don’t doubt it, bud,” Glenn says, while Rick smiles sympathetically.

 

“One step at a time, right?” Daryl says. 

 

“Literally,” Glenn says. They all exchange a look, and then crack up laughing. 

 

“Ow, my ribs,” Daryl says, still grinning even as he presses his hand to his side. 

 

“Your shit’s fucked up,” Glenn says.

 

“It’ll get better, though. And hey?” Rick says. 

 

“Hm?” Daryl hums.

 

“At least you’re still more handsome than Glenn, even after nearly dying.”

 

“Fuck both of you,” Glenn says.

 

Daryl snorts. 

 

He’s already feeling a little better.

 

—-

 

_ My beautiful, perfect, amazing kiddos, _

 

_ Today was a lot. Maybe I’ll have mentioned it to you already sometime, but there was an accident and it was bad but it coulda been way worse. The doctors and nurses keep telling me how lucky I am cuz I came away from that mangled car with nothin but some bruises and a messed up leg. And every time they say that I wanna tell them they got no idea cuz if I had died today that means I woulda left you. And even though the whole idea of these letters is for you to read them when I’m gone I still can’t wrap my mind around not being there to watch you grow. _

 

_ I don’t wanna miss a single second of your lives. I’ve been away from you for a little over a day and that alone is killing me. I miss you so much. I hope you don’t ever think I’m suffocating you. I promise that when you get big I’ll try and give you space but right now you’re still small and I can hover as much as I damn well please and trust me when I say that I will. _

 

_ I wanna see all of it you guys. Absolutely all of it. I wanna hear your first laughs and see you crawl for the first time and take your first steps. I wanna hear what you have to say when you learn how to talk. I wanna know what kinds of things you find fun and what things you hate. I wanna meet all your boyfriends and girlfriends even though no one will be good enough for you. I want you to argue with me about that. I wanna see you graduate and I wanna see you go off to live your lives and to miss the hell outta you but out of pride instead of sadness.  _

 

_ I aint good at emotions so it took me a long time to realize that a part of me is mad at my momma cuz she left me when I was little. I think there will always be that little bit that doesn’t get why she had to go and die when I still needed her. _

 

_ I aint gonna tell you not to be mad if I die before my time lil ones cuz I understand. But I need you to know that no part of me wanted to go. I will always always always want to be here with you. If it happens tomorrow or when I’m old and grey the hardest part of dying will be leaving you.  _

 

_ But I will love you with every breath I breathe and I dunno if there’s anything after this but if there is then you best know I’m still watching you. Still wanting to see all the good and bad and in between things you do. _

 

_ But today I’m still here.  _

 

_ I’m still here and so are you and how wonderful is that? Being here together. _

 

_ I love you Josie and I love you Jesse and not even death will change that.  _

 

_ I swear it, _

_ Dad _

 

—-

 

_ January 2nd _

_ Monday _

 

“ _ Fuck _ , that hurts like a bitch,” Daryl says as two nurses and Carol all help him up into a standing position. He takes hold of the walker in front of him and balances all his weight on his good leg. “You guys sure it’s smart to try an’ make me walk on this?” 

 

“We’ve let you lay around long enough,” says Jeanette, the nurse he likes, although she’s not his favorite right now. “You sit around much longer and you could get blood clots, and a pulmonary embolism is a lot bigger problem than a broken leg.” 

 

“Yeah yeah,” Daryl says. “Let’s just do it. How far do I gotta walk?”

 

“How far  _ can _ you walk?” Jeanette asks, a challenge in her voice, and Daryl scowls at her.

 

“Hopefully far enough to bust outta this stupid hospital,” Daryl mumbles. Carol laughs, rubbing his back.

 

“You got this, babe,” she says. He gives her a flat look.

 

“Tell me I’m bein’ a pussy or somethin’, that’ll motivate me more,” he tells her. She grins.

 

“Okay,” she says brightly. Daryl snorts. “I pushed two full-term babies out of a hole the size of a bagel, with  _ no _ pain medicine at  _ all _ ,  _ and _ one of them was backwards, and you can’t walk a few steps on a broken leg? Pfft, and I thought you were tough.”

 

“Knew you’d pull that card,” Daryl says, scowling some more. 

 

“I get to pull that card for the rest of my life,” Carol says. “Now get walking or you’re gonna atrophy to the bed.”

 

“Fine,” Daryl says. He takes a tentative first step and immediately a sharp pain shoots up his side. He cringes through it, using the walker to steady himself, and takes another. 

 

“That Tylenol doin’ the trick?” Carol asks, walking alongside him as he hobbles to the door.

 

“Guess,” Daryl says through clenched teeth. 

 

“I figured. We can always take up Glenn’s sister’s offer and use some homeopathic medication she got online. It’s very reputable, or so she told Glenn.”

 

“Pfft, I think you’d see me shooting straight heroin ‘fore I went all crunchy like that,” Daryl says, wincing through another step. “God, I feel like an eighty year old with osteoporosis, this is so dumb.”

 

“It’ll get easier with time, baby,” Carol says, softer.

 

“You made it all the way from the bed to the door,” Jeanette says. 

 

“Cool, I can walk ten feet.”

 

“Twenty, if you can make it back,” says Jeanette. Daryl huffs and turns himself around, it taking far longer than he thinks turning around should ever take. 

 

“That was nice,” Carol says, helping Daryl hop back into bed. “We never make time for leisurely strolls anymore.”

 

“Shut up,” Daryl says, laughing a little. He gets himself situated in his bed that he’s already starting to get sick of. 

 

“Good work,” Jeanette says. At Daryl’s expression, she says, “Really. Good work. I know you’re anxious to get up and moving, but it’s going to take time. Keep up with these regular walks and push yourself a little more each time, and that’ll help, okay?”

 

“Fine,” Daryl mutters. Jeanette laughs.

 

“He always this stubborn?” she asks Carol.

 

“Yes,” she says immediately.

 

“Pot meet kettle,” Daryl says, casting her a look.

 

“You two are too much,” says Jeanette. “Alright, we’re done torturing you for now. I’ll come by to see you before shift change, and we can do another walk then.”

 

“Looking forward to it,” Daryl says flatly. Jeanette and the other nurse both give him sympathetic smiles that he hates, and show themselves out. Daryl huffs a big sigh and falls back against his pillow. “Hate this,” he says to the ceiling.

 

“I know, baby,” Carol says, sitting on the edge of the mattress. “It  _ will _ get better, though.”

 

“Mm,” he mumbles. “When you gotta head back home?”

 

“Hitching a ride back with Glenn and Maggie around three,” Carol says with a slight pout. “Don’t want to leave you.”

 

“I don’t want you to go either, but the kids have been with your aunt long enough. They’re gonna start thinkin’ wine is a full-course meal.”

 

“Are you sure you don’t want us to come up later?”

 

“Nah, baby, you gotta get back to work, and ‘sides I don’t want you havin’ to do all that drivin’ by yourself with two babies in the backseat.”

 

“It’s not even a two hour drive,” Carol insists, but Daryl shakes his head.

 

“You ain’t comin’ up to Atlanta every single day for two weeks. I’ll be okay. ‘Sides, Rick’ll be here. He went and got all his stuff from his parents’ place last night, and is gonna spend the rest of his break here. I won’t be alone.” 

 

“I know you, though, you’re probably already going crazy without the kids.”

 

He is. 

 

“I’m fine,” he lies. “I’ll see ‘em when you come up with Michonne this weekend.” 

 

“Ugh,” Carol says, dropping her head gently on his chest. He pets her hair.

 

“It ain’t nothin’ but a thing we gotta get through,” he tells her. “And lord knows we’re pros at gettin’ through things.”

 

“Think we’ll ever get through all the bullshit in the world and finally have a bit of a break?” she asks, voice muffled against his hospital gown.

 

“Pro’ly not,” Daryl laughs. “Pro’ly gonna be at least a lil’ bullshit forever. But we’ll get some good, too.”

 

Carol lifts her head and twists her mouth at him.

 

“Uh, hey,” comes a voice at the door. Both Carol and Daryl turn to see Merle hovering awkwardly right outside the room, not sure if he’s going to be welcome or not, and judging by the look on Carol’s face, he’s definitely not. Daryl’s been expecting this, though.

 

“Hey,” he says gently to Carol, touching her arm. She turns towards him, fire in her eyes. “Lemme talk to him.”

 

She searches his eyes, pursing her lips. Finally, she nods.

 

“I’ll be in the cafeteria. Text me when you’ve gotten rid of him,” she says, not bothering to keep her voice down. She gets off the bed and walks past Merle, hitting him with her shoulder on the way out. Merle watches her go, before turning back to Daryl and giving a tight smile.

 

“I guess that answers the question of whether or not I’m still on top of her shit list.” He huffs an awkward laugh. “First time I ever won first place in anythin’.” 

 

Daryl doesn’t grant him a pity laugh. Instead, he looks his brother over. Merle’s face is covered in small cuts, and his right arm is in a sling, but other than that he doesn’t look too worse for wear. He’s wearing his own clothes, which Daryl assumes means he’s not admitted to the hospital. 

 

“You alright?” he asks him. Merle hesitates before deciding it’s safe to step into the room properly. 

 

“Can I sit?” he asks, nodding at one of the vacant chairs by Daryl’s bed. He nods a little. Merle sits down and starts chewing on a cuticle as he regards his brother. “I’m alright,” he says finally. “Fucked up my collarbone and all they’d prescribe me was fuckin’ high-dose ibuprofen. Bet you’re gettin’ all the good stuff, huh?”

 

“I told ‘em to take me off it,” Daryl says pointedly. “Didn’t want it.” 

 

“Mm,” Merle says, getting the hint. He wets his bottom lip, looking around the room. “How bad are you? They ain’t told me much?” he asks, staring out of the window. 

 

“I’m alive,” Daryl says.

 

“Yeah, but how bad are you?”

 

“Broken femur. Gonna take the better part of a year to get workin’ right again,” he says, trying not to sound bitter and likely failing. Merle at least has the courtesy to look guilty.

 

“Not great,” he mutters, gaze falling to his lap. Anywhere but at Daryl, and Daryl finds that this pisses him off.

 

“Merle, look at me,” he says. Merle furrows his brow. He bites the inside of his cheek and doesn’t move for a minute. Finally he lifts his head and makes eye contact. 

 

“‘M lookin’,” he says. 

 

“If you’re gonna come in here and act like you give a damn at least have the decency to look at me. Not seein’ it ain’t gonna make it go away.”

 

“Whatever, man,” Merle says gruffly, but his eyes betray him. “I give a damn, okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Daryl says flatly.

 

“Look, I’m sorry. Is that what you want me to say? That I’m sorry? Well I’m fuckin’ sorry, alright? Sorrier than I ever been ‘bout anythin’ in my whole life.” 

 

“Yeah, you are sorrier than you’ve ever been,” Daryl says, setting his jaw. “The fuck were you thinkin’, man?”

 

“I wasn’t.”

 

“You were doin’ so...fuck, man, I almost believed you could do it. That’s the worst part of this whole thing, you know? That just when I finally was willin’ to maybe let my guard down, you went and pulled this shit.” He shakes his head, the muscles in his neck reminding him with every movement just how hurt Merle’s made him. “Fuck whatever relationship between you and me,” he says quietly. “But I wanted you to be there for them.”

 

Merle can’t seem to handle the eye contact anymore. His gaze falls to the floor.

 

“I don’t wanna stop bein’ there for ‘em,” he says. Daryl sighs, turning his head back up to the ceiling.

 

“Why’d you have to go an’ fuck it up, then?” he mutters.

 

“I didn’t mean to,” Merle says. “I know you ain’t gonna believe that, but I really didn’t. I went to a New Year’s Eve party, not thinkin’ anyone from my street days would be there, but a couple guys showed up, and they had crystal on ‘em and i just...I dunno, man, I was weak. Felt like someone holdin’ a steak in front of a dog. I thought I could handle it. Ain’t that some addict bullshit logic, huh? ‘Oh, I’ll just do a little, it’s no big deal.’” He lets out a humorless laugh. “Turns out it don’t work that way.”

 

Daryl hazards a glance Merle’s way. He’s messing with his sling absent-mindedly. 

 

“I’m goin’ to inpatient,” Merle says then. Daryl furrows his brow.

 

“What?” 

 

“I’m gonna do inpatient. Rehab. Kumbaya and all that bullshit. And before you say it, it’s not a ploy to get you to forgive me. I get that you had a hard line and I crossed it, and even if you do stop feelin’ some type of way about it, that girl of yours would rather see me six feet under than anywhere near you, and I know that, but like...I dunno, baby brother, I think I liked the person I was sober more than the one I always been before.” 

 

“I liked that person better, too,” Daryl mutters after a beat. Merle looks back up at him.

 

“I’m real sorry, baby brother,” he says. “I ain’t got much, but whatever I can spare, I’ll put towards your bills.”

 

“That’s not the point, Merle.”

 

“I know it ain’t, but you can’t say a little extra cash won’t help right now.” He picks at a hangnail. “I need you to know, if you had died, Daryl, I never woulda forgiven myself. Never.”

 

Daryl regards his brother for a long moment. Finally, he nods.

 

“I know. And look, I ain’t makin’ no promises, but...maybe, okay?”

 

“Maybe what?” Merle asks, watching Daryl warily.

 

“If you get your shit together...maybe you can get another chance.” 

 

Merle lets out a big breath and nods quickly.

 

“Yeah, for sure. I’ll do whatever I can.”

 

“What happens if your UA comes back dirty?”

 

“Dunno. Hopefully they won’t pull me until it’s out of my system. Otherwise, maybe they’ll let me do inpatient instead of jail time. Either way, Imma get clean, baby brother. For real. I’ll do everythin’ I can.” 

 

“I can’t accept that ‘til I see it,” Daryl tells him. “But I hope that’s true.” 

 

“I get it,” Merle says. He pats Daryl’s bed and gets to his feet abruptly. “Tell you what, you best get some rest. I’ll...I dunno, I’ll be in touch.” 

 

“Okay.” 

 

Merle gives singular nod and moves to head out the door.

 

“Hey, Merle?” Daryl says then. His brother pauses and looks at him.

 

“Hm?”

 

“I just want you to know how lucky you are. ‘Cause I swear to God, if Carol or my kids had been in that car? Even if they walked away without a scratch? I woulda forgotten your fuckin’ name.” 

 

Merle grimaces a little.

 

“I hear you loud and clear,” he says quietly. 

 

“Good,” Daryl says. He clears his throat. “I love you, Merle.”

 

Merle’s eyebrows fly up.

 

“Yeah...you too.” 

 

“Right. Now go on,” Daryl says, dismissing him. “And don’t fuck up again.” 

 

“Scout’s honor,” Merle says, and shows himself to the door. Daryl stares after him long after he’s gone, the ache in his leg a dull and constant drone in the background. He picks up his phone.

 

(11:19a) -come back i need u-

 

(11:20a) *That bad?*

 

(11:21a) -no it was ok-

 

(11:21a) -i just need u 2 come luv me plz-

 

(11:21a) -feelin emotions-

 

(11:21a) -not a fan-

 

(11:22a) *Hold tight, baby.*

 

(11:22a) *Omw.*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoo boy, writing that letter was really emotionally exhausting. thursday is the anniversary of my mom's death, and that letter was full of Feelings. to that end, i'm taking thursday off from posting 'cause my partner and i always do something uplifting for Dead Mom Day, and so i won't be around. i'll see y'all sunday for more hospital drama, and probably a lot of text threads, too.
> 
> love all you hot bitches,  
> -diz


	24. Dungeons, Dragons, and Wedding Rings

_ January 2nd _

_ Monday _

 

(9:09p) -this is bullshit-

 

(9:12p) ~the hospital?~

 

(9:13p) -all of it-

 

(9:13p) -im in so much fukin pain-

 

(9:13p) -i can only walk like 2 inches @ a time-

 

(9:13p) -they shud of just taken the whole gd leg off 4 all the gud its doin me-

 

(9:13p) -n i feel even more like crap bc apparently i have a low grade fever which means the nurses wont leave me tf alone cuz theyre worried im getting an infection-

 

(9:13p) -which means i cant slp bc every time i start to fall aslp a nurse wakes me up 2 poke n prod @ me-

 

(9:13p) -n i wnt my kids-

 

(9:13p) -i miss them like hell n im not gonna c them 4 the whole damn week-

 

(9:13p) -i cant go tht long w/out them guys im gna go insane-

 

(9:14p) >I promise I'll be there as soon as visiting hours start back up tomorrow.<

 

(9:14p) ~and i'll check up on carol and make sure she doesn't need any help with the twins.~

 

(9:14p) ~i feel bad that we can't do more.~

 

(9:15p) -it aint ur fault-

 

(9:15p) -i just dnt deal w/ bein sick well n im almost 2 hrs away from my family n i have 2 call a nurse 2 help me every time i wna take a piss-

 

(9:15p) -im so mad @ him-

 

(9:16p) >Your brother?<

 

(9:17p) -mhm-

 

(9:18p) ~do you think he'll actually follow through with rehab?~

 

(9:19p) -who tf knows wut he'll do? i hope he gets sober i rly do n mb he can b back in my life if he does but i cant even think tht far bc hes the reason im not home rn n y i cant b w/ my kids or my girl n y i cant even walk-

 

(9:19p) -this shudnt have happened n its like im pissed @ the whole fukin world-

 

(9:19p) -bc if im not pissed i get sad n thts worse-

 

(9:19p) -but i cant go fight anything bc im crippled so wuts the point?-

 

(9:19p) -ugh-

 

(9:20p) ~you could go find some other cripples to beat up. even the playing field. you can't be the only pissed off disabled person around there.~

 

(9:21p) >Go start a fight club in the hospital.<

 

(9:22p) -mb but id have 2 recruit n i dnt wna tlk 2 anyone-

 

(9:23p) ~lucky for you, guess what the first rule of fight club is?~

 

(9:24p) -lmfao tru-

 

(9:25p) >For real though, we're sorry you're going through this, and if we can help at all let us know.<

 

(9:25p) ~maybe getting your mind off things would make you feel better?~

 

(9:26p) -hard 2 4get when im stuck in this bed-

 

(9:27p) >Talk to us about something else, then. The weather, your dog, quantum physics, etc. Anything that isn't how shitty you're feeling right now.<

 

(9:28p) -uhhh-

 

(9:28p) -idek its hard 2 think past the metal rod in my leg making my literal bones throb-

 

(9:28p) -o but actually-

 

(9:28p) -i do got smthn-

 

(9:28p) -its a motorcycle-

 

(9:29p) ~oh hell yeah, we haven't had a quality motorcycle in forever.~

 

(9:29p) >Go for it, brother.<

 

(9:30p) -mmmk so i did smthn dumb on accident-

 

(9:31p) ~naturally.~

 

(9:32p) -shut up-

 

(9:32p) -so whn they were pulling me from the car i cudnt rmbr if carol n the twins had been w/ me or not n i was panicking askin 4 them-

 

(9:32p) -n the paramedic asked me who carol was n i was like half unconscious n cudnt think of words n so i said she was my wife-

 

(9:33p) ~hahaha.~

 

(9:33p) >Roffflll<

 

(9:33p) -it gets worse-

 

(9:33p) -the paramedic who called carol fukin told her i said tht-

 

(9:34p) ~hoo boy.~

 

(9:34p) >Did Carol mention it?<

 

(9:35p) -yeah n @ first she teased me abt it which was w/e but get this-

 

(9:35p) -she said the paramedic called her "carol dixon" n she told me tht it "didnt sound half bad" 2 her-

 

(9:35p) -like???-

 

(9:36p) ~say whaaat?~

 

(9:36p) >Dude.<

 

(9:36p) >Was she trying to say she would be okay with marrying you?<

 

(9:37p) -idfk u guys r sposed 2 tell me thts the point of motorcycles-

 

(9:37p) -n i mean she was rly tired n emotional so it mite not mean anything like she just said it w/out thinking-

 

(9:38p) ~yeah maybe, but that means her automatic, unfiltered response to that was to say she liked having your last name.~

 

(9:39p) -so wut her subconscious or w/e wnts 2 get married?-

 

(9:39p) -it prob was just bc she thot i was gna die n it made her feel some type of way-

 

(9:40p) >And that type of way was that she wants to spend the rest of her life with you?<

 

(9:41p) -aksdhajkl?-

 

(9:41p) -tbh itd b practical-

 

(9:41p) -legally i mean if we were married esp w/ us havin kids itd b better 4 us financially-

 

(9:42p) ~god, you're such a romantic.~

 

(9:43p) -stfu-

 

(9:43p) -im just sayin mb thts wut she was thinking whn she said tht-

 

(9:44p) >You think she wants to marry you so you can file joint taxes and not because she loves you?<

 

(9:45p) -mb??-

 

(9:46p) ~do you still feel the same way about it?~

 

(9:47p) -u mean wud i b down 4 it?-

 

(9:48p) >Yeah.<

 

(9:49p) -duh-

 

(9:49p) -like it doesnt matter if its on paper or not i dnt need the law or w/e 2 say im gna stay w/ her but if she wnted tht commitment fuk yeah id do it-

 

(9:49p) -i dnt wnt nobody else shes perfect n shes the mother of my kids-

 

(9:49p) -i wna b w/ her til the day i die-

 

(9:49p) -tho given our luck lately tht mite b @ like any second but still u get the point-

 

(9:50p) >Sounds to me like you want to marry Carol, brother.<

 

(9:51p) -thts nvr been the problem u kno tht-

 

(9:52p) ~well, given what she said, it sounds like she might want to marry you too.~

 

(9:53p) -she mite not kno wut she wnts-

 

(9:53p) -we aint even been 2gether a whole 2 yrs-

 

(9:54p) ~okay, she might not know what she wants, but you're certain you do?~

 

(9:55p) -i dnt need diff experiences i found wut makes me happy n im gud i dnt get tired of stuff-

 

(9:55p) -but mb she wnts 2 c wut else is out there n i dnt wnt her 2 think shes got no other choice just cuz she n i have kids-

 

(9:55p) -stayin 2gether only 4 the kids aint nvr done nobody no gud-

 

(9:56p) ~whenever you make these rationalizations you always do it coming from the assumption that she doesn't love you as much as you love her. why?~

 

(9:57p) -idk-

 

(9:58p) >Too bad that car accident didn't kill your low self-esteem.<

 

(9:59p) -nope just my leg-

 

(10:00p) ~it didn't kill your leg. it just, you know, maimed it a little.~

 

(10:01p) -maimed it a lot-

 

(10:02p) >How's the pain?<

 

(10:03p) -awful my whole body hurts-

 

(10:03p) -like ik im bein a pissbaby but this tylenol doesnt do shit-

 

(10:04p) ~yeah you're such a pissbaby, you only almost died.~

 

(10:04p) >Right? Suck it up, Dixon.<

 

(10:05p) -ha ha-

 

(10:05p) -hey im gna go the nurse i like is on n she mite actually let me slp so imma look @ pics of my kids on my fone until my depression knocks me out-

 

(10:06p) ~ :/ ~

 

(10:06p) >Yeah, we're gonna do something cheerful tomorrow.<

 

(10:07p) -sure-

 

(10:07p) -nite guys-

 

(10:08p) >Night, Daryl, feel better.<

 

(10:08p) ~goodnight. we're here for you.~

 

(10:09p) -do u got my bacterial meningitis?-

 

(10:10p) ~always. <3 ~

 

—-

 

_ January 3rd _

_ Tuesday _

 

(8:09a) *Hi, good morning, how are you feeling?*

 

(8:26a) -sry i was aslp im ok bb how r u n the twins?-

 

(8:29a) *We're alright. We miss you.*

 

(8:30a) -tell me abt it-

 

(8:31a) *How's your pain today?*

 

(8:35a) -fine-

 

(8:35a) -im sore but the tylenol keeps it down-

 

(8:37a) *That's good.*

 

(8:38a) * _ carol sent a photo _ *

 

(8:38a) *Some morning smiles to cheer you up.*

 

(8:41a) -lol howd u get jojo 2 smile 4 a pic?-

 

(8:42a) *How do you think?*

 

(8:43a) -o henry must b rite there huh?-

 

(8:44a) *Of course.*

 

(8:44a) *She'd probably not give a shit if we died as long as Henry was still there.*

 

(8:45a) -idk shes p needy n henry doesnt kno how 2 make bottles-

 

(8:47a) *A fair point.*

 

(8:51a) -hey sweetheart i didnt slp so gud last nite so imma try n nap i'll text u l8r n call u 2nite?-

 

(8:52a) *Yeah of course, that's fine.*

 

(8:52a) *Are you sure you're ok?*

 

(8:53a) -mhm just slpy-

 

(8:54a) *Alright, well I love you.*

 

(8:55a) -ilu2 n tell jojo n jj daddy misses them-

 

(8:56a) *Will do. Get some rest.*

 

(8:57a) -ttyl-

 

—-

 

(8:58a) -im fukin dyin-

 

(9:02a) ~still feeling no bueno?~

 

(9:04a) -my fever spiked last nite n i had terrible nitemares n sweat thru my sheets-

 

(9:05a) >Shit, are you okay?<

 

(9:06a) -i am now they put me on iv antibiotics n a higher dose of tylenol n my fever broke a few hrs ago but damn-

 

(9:06a) -i used 2 get the shit beat out of me all the time n i still cant rmbr ever feelin this bad-

 

(9:07a) ~yikes.~

 

(9:08a) -sry im out of it n tired-

 

(9:08a) -rick u dnt gotta come 2 the hospital 2day im gna b shit company-

 

(9:09a) >I can still come. I don't care if you're grumpy.<

 

(9:10a) -its chill i think they wna limit my contact w/ ppl anyway until theyre sure the infection is under control-

 

(9:11a) ~does carol know you got sick?~

 

(9:12a) -no n dnt tell her-

 

(9:13a) ~aw man, c'mon, don't make me keep a secret.~

 

(9:14a) >Why don't you want her to know?<

 

(9:15a) -bc her mom died of sepsis n i dnt wnt her blowing a tiny infection out of proportion bc of her ptsd-

 

(9:15a) -my temp is almost normal now its nbd so y freak her out 4 no reason?-

 

(9:16a) >Mmmkay.<

 

(9:17a) -y mk?-

 

(9:18a) >Just, should you be keeping stuff from her when that's been an issue between you two in the past?<

 

(9:19a) -its not like im not telling her im gna die 2day or smthn-

 

(9:20a) ~did you tell her the truth about how much pain you're in or did you tell her you were fine?~

 

(9:21a) -...-

 

(9:21a) -it doesnt matter stfu-

 

(9:22a) >What is it with you two and your need to seem invincible to the other?<

 

(9:23a) -i just dnt wnt her 2 worry or feel bad 4 not bein here-

 

(9:23a) -im bein real dumb n moody like she sent me a pic of the twins a bit ago n all it did was bum me out-

 

(9:23a) -y wud she wna deal w/ tht?-

 

(9:24a) ~because she loves you and wants you to be honest about how you're feeling?~

 

(9:25a) - :/ -

 

(9:25a) -w/e-

 

(9:25a) -im crippled let me do wut i wnt-

 

(9:26a) >If you and Carol are both this stubborn I'm scared to see Jesse and Josie when they're older.<

 

(9:27a) ~let's hope that shit isn't genetic.~

 

—-

 

(3:09p) -k glenn i picked elf-

 

(3:13p) >...Daryl…<

 

(3:14p) ~!!!!!~

 

(3:14p) ~what class are you gonna be?~

 

(3:15p) -ranger-

 

(3:16p) ~that's perfect. totally a you choice.~

 

(3:17p) >Daryl, please don't say that this is about what I think it's about.<

 

(3:18p) -look dude im so fukin bored i'll do anything @ this point-

 

(3:18p) -ur the 1 who brought me this shit yesterday-

 

(3:19p) >I brought it as a joke! I didn't expect you to actually use that dumb book!<

 

(3:20p) ~have you completed your character sheet, daryl?~

 

(3:21p) -im still tryna figure out how tf it works-

 

(3:21p) -so i get extra points on dexterity?-

 

(3:22p) ~yeah, elves have +2 dex.~

 

(3:23p) -i suck @ charisma i have a -1-

 

(3:24p) ~seems about right.~

 

(3:25p) -ha ha-

 

(3:25p) -k i have a +2 proficiency bonus on strength saves 2 ig-

 

(3:26p) >This is like listening to another language. A terrible one. Is this how Carol feels about French?<

 

(3:26p) >Why didn't you just let me come visit you? This could have been avoided.<

 

(3:27p) -sry ive been so caught up on feelin like shit tht i didnt realize how fukin dull hospitals r-

 

(3:27p) -they dnt get the lifetime movie network in here n theres nthn else 2 watch-

 

(3:27p) -carol watches dumb tlc shows whn she thinks im not paying attention so i checked tht out but it was tht weird wedding dress show n it stressed me out thinking abt marriage again so-

 

(3:27p) -dnd it is-

 

(3:28p) ~i got daryl to cave. that means this is inevitable, rick.~

 

(3:29p) >This car accident is the worst thing that's ever happened to me.<

 

(3:30p) ~i'm beginning to think it was a blessing.~

 

(3:31p) -i just wnt smthn 2 distract me-

 

(3:31p) -i dropped 1 of my dice on floor just now tho n i cant bend down so i'll hafta figure the rest out l8r whn i can get a nurse 2 grab it-

 

(3:31p) -luv not bein able 2 do simple tasks its real gr8-

 

(3:32p) >Ask them if there's anything they can do to heal you sooner before Glenn completely reels you into this stupid game.<

 

(3:32p) >I'll give you one of my legs if you think a transplant would help.<

 

(3:33p) -think tht mite make things worse-

 

(3:33p) -thnx tho-

 

(3:34p) ~it's too late, rick. it's been set in motion. there's no stopping it now.~

 

(3:35p) >I really need to expand my friend circle.<

 

(3:36p) ~good luck.~

 

(3:36p) ~if you try to replace us we'll just tell anyone you talk to that you play d&d.~

 

(3:36p) ~who'd want to be friends with a nerd like that?~

 

(3:37p) >I hope you slip on your dice and break your head open.<

 

(3:38p) -didnt expect dnd 2 b so high risk-

 

(3:39p) ~that's the magic of the game, bud.~

 

(3:39p) ~anything can happen.~

 

—-

 

(8:19p) * _ incoming call from carol _ *

 

Daryl stares at his vibrating phone and for a couple seconds debates on whether or not he wants to answer. It's not that he doesn't want to talk to her—the exact opposite, in fact—but he's afraid that hearing her voice will just make him more homesick. He’s never willingly ignored a phone call from her before, though, and he’s not about to start now.

 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says, answering her call.

 

“Hi, you sound terrible,” Carol says, and Daryl snorts.

 

“Fuck you, too,” he says, a smile in his voice.

 

“Oh shut up, you know what I mean,” she says, and Daryl can practically hear the fond eye roll she makes on the other end. “Haven’t heard from you much today.”

 

“Sorry. Didn’t wanna bother you.”

 

“Since when has you texting me ever been a bother?” 

 

“Dunno.”

 

“Never, is the answer, so what’s really up?”

 

“Eh,” Daryl says quietly, picking at the bandage on his surgical wound. “Just miss you and the kids and feelin’ sorry for myself about it.” 

 

“I think you’re entitled to a little moping,” Carol says softly. “Are you  _ sure _ you don’t want us to come up earlier than this weekend?”

 

“Nah, babe, it’s too much hassle on your end, plus there ain’t no need to put the babies through the stress.”

 

“They’re babies, Daryl, half the time they go to sleep and wake up in completely different places ‘cause we move them around and they just roll with it. A few car rides aren’t going to send them spiraling.”

 

“I guess, but it’s a pain in the ass getting them all bundled up just to go to the grocery store. I ain’t gonna make you take off work and then deal with that just to come up here for a few hours and go back. Not worth the time or the gas.”

 

“Yes you are,” Carol says pointedly. “But fine. Tell me, though, if you change your mind.”

 

“I will. What I really want is to just go home. I tried askin’ if I could get transferred down to the hospital in town—like if they’re gonna keep holdin' me hostage they could at least do it where I live—but they said they want the ortho-whatever surgeon to observe me for a bit since the break was so bad and we ain’t got that big or as good of a hospital down there. I told ‘em I don’t give a damn if the docs back home ain’t award-winning or nothin’, but they keep insistin’.”

 

“You should probably listen to them, babe, we want your leg to fully heal. Let’s not mess with your chances.”

 

“Yeah yeah,” Daryl mutters, pressing random buttons on the remote to his bed, making it go up and down. “How’re the kids, what’re they up to?”

 

“Jesse’s right here napping in my arms, and Josie’s on her playmat doing some tummy time. I think she’s trying to roll over.”

 

“Ugh, don’t let her learn ‘til I’m home.”

 

“Don’t worry, I don’t think she’s there just yet. They’re both killin’ it when it comes to lifting themselves up, though. They got some solid neck muscles. Our kids are ripped.” 

 

“Pfft. Yeah, let’s throw ‘em in the wrestling ring—see if they can’t win us some cash. Could pay off some of these fuckin’ medical bills.” 

 

“You’d make them give us their own hard-earned money?”

 

“I mean, they don’t even got object permanence yet. I don’t think they’d notice.” He smiles at the sound of Carol’s laugh.

 

“I hope you’re not sitting in that hospital room worrying about bills,” she says more seriously after her laughter fades. “I don’t want you thinking about that. I want you to focus on getting better.” 

 

“Kinda hard to focus on that when just takin’ a breath in here pro’ly costs about $75 minimum.”

 

“Hey, look at it this way—by the time it’s all said and done you’ll definitely will have hit your deductible, so if you or the kids have any other accidents at least those will be covered. Until next year, anyway. Me not so much. My job could be way worse, but my insurance is shit.” 

 

“Yeah, it’d be better if I could just put you on mine.”

 

“We’d have to be married,” Carol reminds him, and he’s glad she’s not there to see him blanch. 

 

“Yeah, no, I know. I was just sayin’ that it’d be nice if...it'd make me feel better knowin’ your shit was covered if anything were to happen to you. Or, well, anything else, I mean.” 

 

“I get it. I’ll be paying off the kids’ birth until I’m fifty at this rate.”

 

“You know your debts are my debts too, right? Just ‘cause they’re under your name don’t mean they fall all on you. My money is your money, no matter what. Not that I got all that much of it, but it’s the thought that counts, right?” 

 

“You ever think about how different we live from our friends? I’d bet you ten bucks Rick and Michonne have never sat and discussed combining their debts, except no I wouldn’t, ‘cause I don’t have ten bucks.”

 

Daryl snorts.

 

“Even before we went and got knocked up we lived more like adults than kids anyways,” Daryl says. “Imagine how hard their heads would explode if they had to figure out government assistance? Not that they’d ever need it.”

 

“I can’t wait for the day that they all get adult responsibilities and come crying to us because they don’t know how to do anything.”

 

“Guess growin’ up like we did at least taught us how to take care of ourselves.”

 

“Small blessings. Sure, we’ll probably both be in therapy for years unraveling all the trauma, but at least we know how to do taxes.” 

 

“‘Least there’s that.”

 

“Seriously, though, baby, don’t worry about the bills. What’s done is done, and frankly all I care about is you being alive and getting healthy.” 

 

“I’ll try. No promises.”

 

“I’ll take it.” 

 

Daryl stops messing with his bed remote and sighs.

 

“I miss y’all like crazy,” he says quietly. “Rick’s been comin’ up when he can, but that don’t make this place any less shitty. I can see why you hate it.” 

 

“We miss you, too. Just remember it’s temporary. That helped me get through it.”

 

“I will.”

 

“I love you, Daryl.  _ We _ love you.”

 

“Love y’all, too,” Daryl says, staring up at the plain, tiled ceiling above him. He's memorized every inch of it, and it's only been two days.

 

—-

 

_ January 6th _

_ Friday _

 

“You’re getting better every day,” Daryl’s favorite nurse, Jeanette says as she helps him hobble back into his bed. He collapses onto the mattress that he swears has molded to the shape of him by now, and lifts his shit leg up gingerly.

 

“Yeah, I can walk down a hallway with a walker and two nurses makin’ sure I don’t fall on my ass. I’ll be runnin’ marathons by next week,” Daryl says, flicking the brace around his thigh and giving it a dirty look. Jeanette crosses her arms and leans against the counter, watching him with an exasperated smile.

 

“Your body is showing great improvement,” she says. “But as always, your attitude leaves much to be desired.”

 

Daryl rolls his eyes.

 

“I’d jump for joy but I can’t hardly even stand up, so.”

 

“Ha ha,” Jeanette deadpans. She twists her mouth, regarding him. “Your girlfriend and kids are coming to see you tomorrow, right?”

 

At that Daryl does crack a small smile.

 

“Yeah,” he says, leaning back against his pillow and pulling out his phone. “Look at this picture my girl sent me this morning.” He hands his phone to Jeanette, who smiles warmly at the photo of Josie and Jesse laying side-by-side on one of their playmats and grinning at one another. 

 

“They’re adorable,” Jeanette says, handing Daryl back his phone.

 

“They’re four months tomorrow,” Daryl says, ghosting a thumb over their little faces. “Well, Jojo is technically four months today ‘cause she was born just before midnight. Not sure how we’re gonna deal with birthdays. Can you believe they used to be only six pounds? They almost fit in just one of my hands, and now they’re tryna roll over, and can hold themselves up when we sit ‘em down. I swear, they’re lil’ weeds.”

 

“Mm, they’ll be going off to college before you know it,” Jeanette says, adjusting the stethoscope around her neck.

 

“You joke,” Daryl says with a sigh. “But that’s what it feels like sometimes.”

 

“Wish my kids’ daddy gave as big a shit about his son as you do about your twins,” Jeanette says. Daryl glances up at her.

 

“He skip out on you?”

 

“And never looked back,” Jeanette says nonchalantly. Daryl shakes his head.

 

“I don’t get that,” he says, gaze falling back to the photo he still has pulled up. “I used to think so many dads are shit just ‘cause that’s how it is—like maybe it just takes a lot to bond with a kid and not everyone is up for puttin’ in the effort—but nah. This is effortless. If anything, the thing that’d be hard would be tryna not to give a shit about ‘em.”

 

The corner of Jeanette’s mouth flicks up. She uncrosses her arms and goes over to clap Daryl on the shoulder.

 

“You’ll see ‘em tomorrow, kid,” she says. “Try and keep that mood up so you can heal and go home and be with them as soon as possible, yeah?”

 

“Yeah,” Daryl says, shutting off his phone and tipping his head back against his pillow. He blows a big breath out through his mouth.

 

Who knew tomorrow could feel like an eternity?

 

—-

 

(6:09p) >Fine, fuck you guys, I caved.<

 

(6:09p) >Human paladin.<

 

(6:09p) >I don’t understand how to read my character sheet but there are a lot of numbers.<

 

(6:11p) -lol-

 

(6:13p) ~!!!!!!~

 

(6:13p) ~bitch yaaass. we’re playing d&d.~

 

(6:14p) >Literally only because my wifi went out this afternoon and I needed something to do while I waited for the internet people to show up.<

 

(6:14p) >Do not think I am doing this because I actually want to.<

 

(6:15p) -same-

 

(6:16p) ~i don’t even care. i told you i’d reel you in.~

 

(6:16p) ~what are your character names?~

 

(6:17p) -didnt come up w/ 1-

 

(6:17p) >Yeah, I didn’t care enough to bother.<

 

(6:19p) ~you have to pick names, dummies, i need to be able to refer to your characters.~

 

(6:20p) -yeah i’m not gna do tht-

 

(6:20p) >Same.<

 

(6:21p) ~if you won’t pick then i’ll pick for you.~

 

(6:22p) >I think that was supposed to be threatening, but you’re forgetting that we literally don’t care.<

 

(6:23p) ~okay, asshole, since you insist on being one your character’s name is going to be dick.~

 

(6:23p) ~and daryl let me think about yours...~

 

(6:24p) ~oh, i got it.~

 

(6:24p) ~fartyl.~

 

(6:25p) - :/ -

 

(6:25p) >Jesus fucking christ.<

 

(6:26p) ~dick the human paladin, and fartyl the elven ranger.~

 

(6:26p) ~looking forward to our adventures together~

 

(6:27p) >That makes exactly one of us.<

 

(6:27p) -ive nvr cared abt nythng less-

 

(6:28p) ~so excited! <3~ 

 

A knock comes at Daryl’s door, and Daryl rolls his eyes. He’s about three days past tolerating his nurses' near-constant checkups, and now he’s openly hostile about them. Without looking up from his phone he says,

 

“You’re gonna come in anyway, so why bother knockin’? Can’t go two hours without makin’ sure my blood pressure is exactly the same as it always is, right?” 

 

The door opens and a familiar voice says, “My bad. We can come back later if you want.” 

 

Daryl’s head pops up so fast he thinks he might have reinjured his neck muscles, but he doesn’t care, because at the door to his room is Carol giving him a wide smile and holding onto a stroller. Daryl drops his phone to the side, his Dungeons and Dragons conversation entirely forgotten about, and shifts himself up in his bed, at a loss for words.

 

“So should we go…?” Carol asks, a playful smirk on her face. 

 

“Absolutely not,” Daryl says once he finds his voice. “What the hell are you doin’ here? You ain’t s’posed to be here ‘til tomorrow."

 

“Eh, got tired of waiting,” Carol says casually. She pushes the stroller into the room and comes over beside Daryl’s bed. Daryl can’t see the twins from his angle, and he strains himself trying to look over the stroller’s hood. “Don’t pop a joint, I’ll give them to you in just a second,” Carol laughs. Unremorseful, Daryl slumps back in his bed and waits impatiently as Carol unbuckles the babies from their seats.

 

“Let’s see, here’s Thing Number One,” she says, lifting up Josie who’s in a yellow sweater and sans pants. “You alright to hold them? Anywhere besides your leg where you hurt that I should be careful of? How are your ribs?” Carol asks, hesitating.

 

“I’m fine,” Daryl says quickly, shifting himself up on the mattress and holding out his arms. He knows Carol sees right through him—knows that he’d ignore any ache or pain to get her to hand over the baby—but she doesn’t argue, likely because she knows she’d do the exact same. She lets Daryl take Josie. The second his hands are around her he brings his daughter to his chest, wrapping his arms around her in a secure hug, and buries his face in her thin, dark hair. 

 

“Hi, Jojo,” he whispers to her, kissing the top of her head for a long moment. He turns his head to look at Carol. “Thing Number Two?” he asks hopefully.

 

“Right here,” she says, a soft smile on her lips as she frees Jesse from the stroller. Daryl opens and arm and has Carol place him beside his sister. Daryl embraces the two of them at once and holds them flush against him, sighing with relief.

 

“C’mere,” he says to Carol after a minute. He lifts his head up and she gets the idea, leaning over to kiss him. She kisses him on the mouth, and then kisses him once on the tip of his nose, making him scrunch his face and huff a laugh. She takes a seat on the edge of the bed, careful of Daryl’s shit leg. 

 

Daryl adjusts the twins so he can see their faces. It’s a feat to sit them up without putting weight on his left thigh, but he gets them sitting upright, and Carol keeps a hand hovering nearby so that they don’t topple over. 

 

“I’ve missed y’all somethin’ awful,” Daryl says to the twins, looking from one to the other. “You been good for your momma? Your auntie?” 

 

Jesse grins and starts cooing and babbling nonsensically, reaching a hand out and touching Daryl’s face. Daryl plants a kiss on Jesse’s tiny fingers and listens intently to whatever it is he has to say.

 

“He’s got a lot to tell you,” Carol says, laughing.

 

“He’s tellin’ me ‘bout everything y’all did this week while I was gone,” Daryl says. 

 

“Oh? And what all is he saying we did?”

 

“He says y’all drank a lotta milk, played with some toys, and shit your pants.”

 

“That last one was just them. I’m pretty good at keeping my pants shit-free.” 

 

Daryl snorts, casting Carol a quick smirk before turning to Josie.

 

“And how have you been, baby girl?” he asks her. “You still just gonna let your brother do all the talkin’?” At his voice, Josie looks right at Daryl and giggles. Daryl raises his eyebrows, and to Carol he says, almost accusatory, “You didn’t tell me she was laughing now.”

 

“She hasn’t been,” Carol says, tilting her head at Josie.

 

“Don’t lie just to protect my feelin’s, I wanna know when she started laughin’, I like to keep track of their milestones.”

 

“I’m not lying,” Carol says, looking at Daryl earnestly. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard her laugh.” 

 

Daryl eyes Carol doubtfully. He turns back to Josie and says, “Is that true, baby girl? Did you save that one just for me? Can you do it again?” He gives her a big kiss on the cheek and she lights up once more with little baby giggles. Daryl’s heart swells as he laughs right along with her. 

 

“Apparently the way to get her to show affection is to go AWOL for a few days and give her time to decide she actually likes you,” Carol says, taking hold of Josie’s foot and playing with it. 

 

“That, or be a dog,” Daryl says.   
  


“Or that,” Carol agrees, reaching over into the stroller and pulling out a couple colorful, plastic baby toys. She gives one to Jesse, who immediately takes it and brings it to his mouth, and one to Josie, who hits it against Daryl a few times before dropping it. Daryl hands it back to her and she does the same thing.

 

“Why’d you really come up here?” Daryl asks Carol, handing Joisie her toy again. Carol shrugs.

 

“Because you sounded more and more depressed every time I talked to you, and I was able to flex my time at work. Michonne came up with me, and the kids were completely fine. They didn’t fuss once.” 

 

“Where you stayin’?”

 

“That’s up to you,” Carol says. “I brought a pack-n-play with me in the van, and I can sleep standing up if I gotta, so we can stay here if you want. Or if you’d prefer the peace and quiet then I can crash at Rick’s.”

 

“No,” Daryl says quickly. “Stay here.” He hands Josie back her toy a third time.

 

“Aa maah aa baabaa,” Jesse says around the toy still shoved in his mouth.

 

“He says he wants to stay,” Daryl translates, and Carol snorts.

 

“Oh, well in that case.” She rolls her eyes fondly and reaches over to brush Daryl’s hair out of his face. “How you feelin’?” she asks gently.

 

“Helluva a lot better now.” He gives Josie her toy back a fourth time. He looks Carol in the eye and says, “Thank you.”

 

“Of course. I know you’ve had a rough go of it. I know you hate being away.”

 

“I do,” Daryl agrees. He gives her a once over. “How’re  _ you _ doin’, though? Shitty of me to not even ask. This bringin’ up any bullshit? Any bad thoughts?”

 

“Truth be told, I’ve been so busy with work and the twins that I haven’t really even stopped to think about how I’ve been feeling. Michonne and Glenn have made sure I haven’t been alone much, too. Next week might be different, since they’ll both be back at school, but I already made plans with Rachel, and my aunt, to get me and the twins out of the house. And I went to therapy today.”

 

“Yeah? It go okay?”

 

“It was alright,” Carol says, shrugging. “We talked about you getting hurt and about loss and fear of loss and how loss makes me feel, yada yada. It didn’t make me feel like running through any fields of flowers or anything, but I went and was honest with her.”

 

“‘M proud of you,” Daryl says softly. She smiles a little.

 

“I told you, I’m serious about it this time. And if things get too hard, I’ll tell you, okay? But so far it’s been alright.” 

 

Daryl chews on his lower lip, his conscience gnawing at him as he picks up Josie’s toy a fifth time and sticks it in her chubby, little fist.

 

“I lied,” he says after a beat. He doesn’t look at Carol right away, but it feels cowardly, so he makes himself meet her eye. She gives him a bemused frown and a shake of the head.

 

“Lied about what?” she asks. 

 

“Tuesday I told you I was alright. I wasn’t. I had a fever Monday night from a small infection. I felt like crap, and the Tylenol didn’t do jack, and I was in  _ so _ much pain, and was all up in my feelin’s, just pissed at the whole world, but I didn’t want you to know, ‘cause I didn’t want you to worry, so I played it way down. I’ve played it down all week, ‘cause I wanted to make things easier on you. But that ain’t fair, is it? It ain’t fair for me to ask you to be honest and for me to keep stuff from you.”

 

Carol regards him for a long moment, brows knit together.

 

“Do you still have an infection?” she asks, and he’s shaking his head before the words are fully out of her mouth.

 

“No,” he says. “It responded to the antibiotics right away and was gone in a flash, and I been walkin’ up and down these hallways like a pro ever since.” He fiddles with the fabric of Jesse’s pants and huffs. “I was scared it’d make you think of your momma, with the sepsis and everything, and then it was gone and it didn’t feel worth talkin’ about. I knew better, though. I  _ know _ better, and I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s okay,” Carol says, and when he looks at her he knows she means it. “I appreciate you telling me. It’s a process, right? For both of us?”

 

“S’pose so. I’ll try an’ be better.”

 

“That’s all either of us can do.” She laughs then and says, “How many times are you gonna pick that up for her?”

 

“She don’t have that strong’a grip, it ain’t her fault,” Daryl says defensively, picking up Josie’s toy for the...he’s lost count. 

 

“These two have you wrapped around their fingers so damn tight,” she says. “How’re we ever gonna use auntie’s vacation money? You’ll go crazy the second we leave the house.” 

 

“Pfft, not like we’re goin’ anywhere soon,” Daryl says, casting an annoyed nod towards his bandaged and braced leg. 

 

“That’s not forever, baby,” Carol says softly. Daryl shrugs.

 

“That’s what they keep tellin’ me,” he says. At Carol’s face he sighs and adds, “Yeah, okay, I know. I just hate not bein’ able to move around.”

 

“I understand.”

 

“We’ll go on some fancy trip together, though, just me and you. We deserve some time together. I’ll be okay if bein’ away from them is planned, you know? This wasn’t planned. I was expectin’ to seem ‘em in a few hours, and instead I got my whole shit fucked up and then didn’t get to see ‘em for almost a whole week. I didn’t prepare myself to be away.”

 

“That makes sense. Will you  _ please _ let me come up at least once next week? Wednesday maybe? I know you don’t want to be a burden, but I think it’s harder on all of us to stay away. I have the time to spare at work, it’ll be fine.”

 

It’s hard for him to say no when his kids are sitting right in his arms.

 

“We should save the money on gas. Our bills—”

 

“Fuck the bills,” Carol cuts him off with a dismissive wave of her hand. “We’ve got medical bills up the ass, but who doesn’t nowadays? We don’t have anything in Collections, we got our adorable little tax deductions right here—” Daryl laughs a little at that. “—We’ll be okay. We’re not gonna end up on the street if we spend a little extra on gas this month. Let us come up.”

 

“Alright,” Daryl says, as if there was much fight in him on the subject to begin with.

 

“Good, ‘cause I was going to do it either way, but it would be nicer with your approval.”

 

“Ass,” Daryl says with a smile. They sit and entertain the babies for a while.

 

“Hey,” Carol says after a bit. “I have a question.”

 

“What’s up?” Daryl asks, glancing away from the babies to look at her. 

 

“Obviously not right this second ‘cause we’d need to sort shit out, but what would you think of me going back to school?” she asks. Before Daryl can answer, she rushes on, saying, “I was thinking of doing some sort of trade. Or maybe a culinary degree. Something that doesn’t take that long, and would get me in somewhere with a decent paycheck. I can’t work as a desk clerk at the clinic forever, it doesn’t pay for shit, and I don’t want you to be carrying us on your paycheck for the rest of our lives. It’d cost us money, of course, at least I’d have to take out a loan, but I can see if there are any scholarships, and hopefully afterwards I’ll get a decent enough job that it won’t matter, and we can make some real dents in our debts, and maybe eventually look into relocating, though of course that’s way off. I know this is just a pipe dream, but I was thinking about it this week, and I—”

 

“I think it’s a great idea,” Daryl says, cutting her off this time. She blinks at him.

 

“Yeah?” she asks, and Daryl nods.

 

“Hell yeah. I always told you I’d be down if you wanted to go back to school or change things up. We’ll make it happen.”

 

“I know we have to get a handle on all of this first.”

 

“Ain’t you the one who said ‘fuck the bills’?” Daryl asks, smirking. “Baby, if I gotta make minimum payments on hospital bills for a hundred years to help you get through school I’ll do it. Lemme get back on my feet, crunch some numbers, you do some research, and we’ll see what’s possible, ‘kay? You’re right, in the long-run you havin’ a degree would pay more than us just tryna make ends meet right now.” 

 

“It doesn’t have to be anything immediate.”

 

“No, but we can get the ball rollin’. Carol, two months ago you didn’t even wanna live no more. Hearin’ you say you wanna go to school and make all these future plans is music to my ears.” He turns to the twins and adds, “You hear that? Your momma is gonna go and be a college girl, which is good ‘cause y’all could use at least one smart parent.”

 

“Shut up,” Carol says, laughing, slapping him lightly on the arm. “I dunno, I just…”

 

“Just what?” Daryl asks, searching her face.

 

“I wanna build a future with you. A proper one, you know? Where we can own our own things, and not worry about every dollar we spend, and just be happy together.”

 

“Nnaah aah waahwaah,” says Jesse.

 

Josie drops her toy and giggles.

 

Daryl smiles, heart full for the first time in days.

 

“That’s what I want, too,” he says.

 

—-

 

(10:16p) -i wnt 2 ask carol 2 marry me-

 

(10:20p) >Um, what the fuck? Where'd that come from? Weren’t we talking about dungeons and dragons?<

 

(10:20p) ~for real. you go silent on us for four hours and come back with that out of nowhere???~

 

(10:20p) ~dish, dude, why so sure all of a sudden?~

 

(10:22p) -she came up 2nite which u prob both kno cuz michonne came w/ her. surprised u kept tht a secret glenn-

 

(10:23p) ~i didn’t, no one told me. that explains why no one was home at your place this afternoon.~

 

(10:23p) ~rude, by the way.~

 

(10:24p) >I knew, but didn’t trust Glenn. Sorry, bud.<

 

(10:25p) ~ >:( ~

 

(10:25p) ~i am so much better at keeping secrets than i used to be tho.~

 

(10:26p) >And we will give you secrets, but only in moderation. You’re on secret-keeping probation.<

 

(10:26p) >Now are we going to keep discussing this, or are we going to ask Daryl what the fuck he’s talking about?<

 

(10:27p) -its a secret glenn n im trusting u w/ it does tht help?-

 

(10:28p) ~...yeah. it does. go on.~

 

(10:29p) -she n the kids came up n she was tlkin abt things she wnts 2 do w/ me like get a real house n a better job n she said she wanted a future w/ me n i was just like-

 

(10:29p) -damn thts wut i want 2-

 

(10:29p) -like i alrdy knew tht but smthn abt hearing her say it made me realize how bad i want 2 b w/ her 4ever-

 

(10:29p) -n if she agreed 2 marry me then mb id finally stop worrying tht shes gonna eventually leave-

 

(10:29p) -is this weird or bad? shud i not?-

 

(10:31p) ~you guys have basically been married since the first time you fell asleep together watching lifetime movies on the couch. the paperwork is just a formality at this point.~

 

(10:32p) >I think what Glenn means is, no, it doesn’t seem weird or bad.<

 

(10:33p) -im not gna ask rn or nythng like stuff has to cool down theres 2 much goin on-

 

(10:33p) -idek whn a gud time 2 ask wud b or how 2 do it or if i even have the balls 2 say the words in the 1st place-

 

(10:33p) -the more i tlk abt this the more im like mb this is stupid-

 

(10:33p) -this mite b stupid guys-

 

(10:34p) >We’ll help you figure it out.<

 

(10:35p) ~we can brainstorm when a good time to poop the quest would be.~

 

(10:35p) ~mother fucker.~

 

(10:35p) ~don’t even say it.~

 

(10:35p) ~*pop the question~

 

(10:36p) - :/ -

 

(10:36p) >Anyway.<

 

(10:37p) -i mite change my mind-

 

(10:38p) >We’ll help you decide what you want to do. We’re always here for any and all motorcycles, brother.<

 

(10:39p) -ty-

 

(10:40p) ~i am so happy, this is going to be so much fun.~

 

(10:41p) >Can we do this instead of D&D?<

 

(10:42p) ~nice try, but we can do both.~

 

(10:43p) ~ _ dumbass changed the groupchat name to “Dungeons, Dragons, and Wedding Rings” _ ~

 

(10:44p) -i regret this alrdy-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i would have had this posted like, twelve hours ago if i was the type of person who was proactive about anything. as it stands, i dicked around all day and now it's 3 in the morning. c'est la vie.
> 
> c u thursday, hoes,  
> -diz


	25. Wedding Crashers

_ January 15th _

_ Sunday _

 

“Come on, limpy, just a little more to go,” Carol says, standing in front of Daryl with her hands hovering in the air, prepared to catch him should stumble as he makes his way slowly through their front door.

 

“I got it,” Daryl says when Carol reaches out towards him. He uses his crutches to keep himself balanced, all his weight on his right leg. He’d refused the walker. It was bad enough he had to use a wheelchair for long distances. He makes it over the threshold and powers through the last few steps to the couch. He collapses onto it, tired from the short walk and pissed off about it. He watches Carol go back outside to fetch the twins from their rental car. When she returns she uses her foot to keep the door open while she awkwardly maneuvers two car seats in either hand into the house. Daryl’s irritation at his useless leg flares as she struggles.

 

“They’re both zapped from the ride,” she says, squatting down to unbuckle them. “I’m gonna put them down for a nap.”

 

“I can help—” Daryl starts, making to push himself back up, but Carol snaps her fingers.

 

“Sit,” she says, pointing at him. Daryl scowls but falls back onto the couch cushion.

 

“Not a dog,” he mumbles.

 

“Well, if you behave yourself then maybe I won’t have to order you around like one,” Carol says matter-of-factly as she gathers both twins in her arms with a practiced ease. She gives Daryl a significant look and adds, “I’m taking them to the nursery. If your butt isn’t in the exact same spot when I get back I’m gonna tie you down, understand?” 

 

Daryl grunts, and, once she’s out of view, sticks his tongue out, glowering.

 

He leans his head back against the couch and shuts his eyes, sighing deeply. He listens to Carol rustling around in the other room, talking sweetly and softly to the babies. Eventually, her footsteps travel back into the living room, and Daryl feels her come up behind him. She drapes her arms around his neck and he hums when she gives him a gentle kiss on the forehead. He opens his eyes and looks at her upside down face and manages a small smile.

 

“Welcome home,” she says, running her fingers through his hair before coming around to the front of the couch. Wordlessly, she helps him lift his shit leg up so that it’s elevated, resting on the coffee table. She takes a seat beside him and he automatically wraps an arm around her, letting her lean into him, kicking her own legs up under herself and curling into a ball like a cat. “How are you feeling?” she asks.

 

Daryl almost says fine before reminding himself she deserves honesty.

 

“Useless, he says. “Like a burden.” Carol tilts her head up at him.

 

“I don’t suppose me telling you you’re nothing close to a burden will do anything to convince you of it, huh?” 

 

“Pro’ly not,” Daryl says truthfully.

 

“Well, I’ll say it anyway just in case. You are nothing close to a burden.”

 

“You say that now, but wait ‘til both kids are cryin’ and you’re busy tryna deal with them on top of your own shit, and I can’t even stand for more than a few minutes to help you with anything.”

 

“Daryl, you have taken care of me more times than I can count. It’s your turn, whether you like it or not.”

 

“Or not,” Daryl says stubbornly, and Carol laughs. She leans up and kisses him on the mouth.

 

“Shut up,” she says sweetly, pulling away. “You’re home, let’s celebrate that for a least a minute before we go into angst mode, yeah?” 

 

Daryl sighs through his nose.

 

“I am happy to be home,” he says, hugging her closer. “Real damn happy. You're right, I should be grateful.”

 

“I’ve been learning more and more that you can be okay and not okay at the same time,” Carol says. “My therapist says there’s nothing wrong with that, but to try and appreciate the good things at least as much as you feel the bad ones.”

 

“My therapist called me back after I left her a message last week sayin’ I’d be gone ‘cause I was in an accident, and while I was on the phone I asked her if she had any therapisty advice to tide me over ‘til I could go again, and she said, ‘Try not to crash anymore cars.’”

 

Carol laughs and says, “Well, in her defense, that’s not bad advice.”

 

“Guess not,” Daryl says, smiling at her. He traces small circles on her upper arm with his thumb. “Enough about my bullshit. How’s yours?” he asks.

 

“Manageable,” she says. “Better now that you’re home. It was getting lonely here. I pulled a you and started sleeping on the nursery room floor.”

 

“That bed’s just sad when you’re the only one in it.”

 

“Especially because without two people to even it out that weird dip in the middle is super obvious,” Carol says, and Daryl snorts. Carol clicks her tongue a few times and after a beat says, “My dad called me the other day.”

 

“What?” Daryl asks, frowning at her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

“I wasn’t keeping it from you, I promise. I just wanted to tell you in person because talking about him pisses me off and I wanted you here to hug me and tell me to chill.”

 

“Aight, well, I’m here. What’d he want?”

 

Carol inhales deeply, as though trying to center herself.

 

“To tell me that his wedding is towards the end of February, and he’d be glad if I could come.”

 

Daryl blinks at her.

 

“Seriously? The fuck is wrong with him? Has he even reached out to you at all since the twins were born?”

 

“No. He’s been MIA since you banned him from our hospital room. The call almost felt like him rubbing it in my face, like he needed to pop up out of nowhere and remind me how easy it was for him to move on from my mom and me.”

 

“Did he even ask about the kids? About how they’re doin’?”

 

“Not a single word. He said he wanted to ‘include me in this new chapter of his life,’ and I asked him if including me meant including my whole family, and all he said to that was, ‘there’s a limited number of guests invited to the wedding.’ I hung up on him after that.”

 

“That’s complete bullshit,” Daryl says, reeling in his anger for her sake. “If that was him tryna make amends with you he sure fucked it right up.”

 

“Tell me about it,” Carol says. She presses her forehead to his chest and sighs. 

 

“Hey,” Daryl says, tugging on one of her curls gently. “You alright?”

 

“I am,” Carol says, lifting her head back up. At Daryl’s worried expression she insists, “I really am. The only place in my life my dad belongs is in my therapist’s office where I can rip him apart.” The corner of Daryl’s mouth quirks up. 

 

“Atta girl,” he says.

 

“Besides, if he really still thinks I’m better off without you and the twins—if he really thinks it’s just a matter of time before I walk away—then he’s clearly lost whatever was left of his marbles. Being shitty to me is one thing, but can you imagine being so disgusted by your own grandchildren that you won’t even acknowledge their existence?”

 

Daryl sees red at the mere thought of anyone looking at his kids with anything even close to disgust.

 

“No I can’t,” he says, scowling.

 

“Whatever,” Carols says. “If he refuses to see how beautiful our family is then that’s his loss, right?” She looks at Daryl expectantly and he cools instantly at the sight of her. He squeezes her shoulder.

 

“Damn straight, baby,” he says. “His loss.”

 

—-

 

_ January 20th _

_ Friday _

 

(12:03p) ~fancy restaurant.~

 

(12:03p) ~where you first met.~

 

(12:03p) ~on the beach at sunset.~

 

(12:03p) ~the top of a mountain.~

 

(12:03p) ~the eiffel tower.~

 

(12:06p) >What’s happening right now?<

 

(12:08p) ~i’m giving daryl suggestions on where he could propose.~

 

(12:11p) -no-

 

(12:12p) ~not a fan of the ideas so far? no problem, i can think of more.~

 

(12:13p) -no-

 

(12:14p) >Rofl. Where are you at with that btw? Are you still wanting to do it, Daryl? You haven’t mentioned it much.<

 

(12:16p) -thts bc if i think abt it 2 long my stomach hurts-

 

(12:16p) -idk if i can go thru w/ it guys wut if she says no?-

 

(12:19p) ~what if she says yes, though?~

 

(12:19p) -but wut if she says no?-

 

(12:20p) ~counterpoint: what if she says yes?~

 

(12:21p) >Okay, we could go in this circle all day, but let’s not. Daryl, you said you didn’t want to do it so soon after your accident anyway, right? So we have time to think it through.<

 

(12:22p) ~time to overthink it, more like…~

 

(12:23p) >Shut up.<

 

(12:24p) -ya i wna wait cuz i dnt wnt her 2 say yes cuz she thinks she has 2 bc im hurt-

 

(12:24p) -plus shes prob sick of me rn bc im useless af-

 

(12:24p) -i cant even watch my own kids alone it took me 4evr 2 convince her i cud take care of /me/ alone-

 

(12:25p) >You go back to work Monday, right?<

 

(12:26p) -yeah but since i can only get arnd w/ crutches or a gd wheelchair i’ll b stuck doin dales paperwork n simple tasks-

 

(12:26p) -ik i shudnt complain bc dale cud totes just write me off since i literally cant do half of my job rn but fuck i h8 paperwork-

 

(12:27p) ~i imagine you will probably overexert yourself trying to do your usual amount of work and will put your leg in further peril, right?~

 

(12:27p) >Sounds on brand.<

 

(12:28p) -w/e i’ll b gud if only cuz i need 2 get on my feet asap 2 help @ home-

 

(12:28p) -i tried weight bearing @ physical therapy yesterday tho n i cussed so loud i scared the old lady w/ the hip replacement across the rm-

 

(12:28p) -so thts goin gr8-

 

(12:30p) ~dude, it’s been three weeks. that’s not long enough for a normal break to heal, let alone one like this. hang in there.~

 

(12:31p) -i cant do nythng i cant even lift my own kids from their cribs bc i cant stand unsupported n my wheelchair is 2 low-

 

(12:31p) -imagine tryna marry this-

 

(12:31p) -like i cant imagine doin the whole down on 1 knee thing in general i dnt rly think we’re the type but it dnt matter anyway bc i literally cant bend down lol-

 

(12:32p) >In sickness and in health, right?<

 

(12:33p) -sure-

 

(12:34p) ~i would hate to be your doctor, you do not handle illness or injuries well.~

 

(12:35p) -any injury i ever had b4 i just dealt w/ it like they sucked but i cud still do my normal life shit but this is fukin me up-

 

(12:35p) -i think im depressed is tht wut this is?-

 

(12:36p) >Probably. It’d make sense. When do you see your therapist next?<

 

(12:37p) -tues-

 

(12:38p) ~maybe she’ll fix your brain.~

 

(12:39p) -id rather she fix my leg-

 

(12:40p) >You could ask her. She’s put up with you this long so she might actually be a miracle worker.<

 

(12:41p) -ur hilarious-

 

(12:42p) ~maybe you should propose outside of one of your guys’ therapists’ offices.~

 

(12:43p) -if i ever actually do get married neither of u r invited-

 

(12:44p) ~liar.~

 

(12:44p) >You’d never.<

 

(12:45p) -watch urselves thn-

 

(12:46p) >You’re gonna be okay, brother. Seriously.<

 

(12:46p) ~yeah for real. it’ll get better, we promise.~

 

(12:47p) -mhm-

 

(12:47p) -i’ll believe u whn i can walk-

 

—-

 

_ January 24th _

_ Tuesday _

 

“Why are you walking like that?” are the first words Daryl hears when he makes his way slowly into the waiting room. Ryan rushes up to him and looks up with wide, curious eyes.

 

“Remember, I told you Daryl got a bad ouchie and that’s why we haven’t seen him in a while?” says Rachel from her spot along the wall across from them. “Do you need any help?” she asks Daryl.

 

“I got it,” Daryl mutters, using his crutches to get him to the closest chair. He takes a seat and tries to make it look as effortless as possible, even though his leg protests the movement, and his ribs aren’t too happy either.

 

“How are you feeling?” Rachel asks, sitting her finished paperwork to the side. 

 

(That’s one benefit to being crippled—Front Desk Jamie didn’t even bother to try and make him juggle a clipboard along with his crutches.)

 

_ I’m feeling tired of answering how I’m feeling, _ Daryl wants to say.

 

“I’m alright,” he says instead.

 

“What are those for?” Ryan asks, pointing at Daryl’s crutches.

 

“They’re to help me walk,” Daryl explains. “I broke my leg.”

 

“Does it hurt?” Ryan asks, examining Daryl’s leg as though trying to see the broken bone through the loose pants Daryl’s got pulled up over his brace.

 

“Yeah, sometimes.”

 

“Did you go to the doctor’s?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“Did he put a band-aid on it?”

 

“Mm, kinda. A really big band-aid.”

 

“I went to the doctor’s before and they gived me three shots in my arm,” Ryan says gravely, holding up three sticky fingers. 

 

“Aw man, that’s no fun,” Daryl says, fighting back a small smile.

 

“I got a sticker with a puppy dog like Henry on it for being brave. Did you get a sticker from the doctor’s?”

 

“Nah, man, no stickers for me.”

 

“Maybe because you weren’t brave then,” says Ryan, and Daryl bursts out laughing. 

 

“Could be, kid,” Daryl says, ruffling Ryan’s hair and deciding the only people worth talking to about his injuries are those three and under.

 

“Daryl?” says Dr. Peterson, popping her head in the door. Daryl gives her a tight smile and tries not to notice her and Rachel’s eyes on him as he struggles to get back up. To her credit, Dr. Peterson seems to know better than to ask to help him.

 

“Good to see you, Daryl. Glad you’re out of the hospital. I was telling Carol you two and the twins should come for dinner sometime. Let’s set something up,” Rachel says.

 

“Sure,” Daryl says noncommittally. He’s headed towards the door when Ryan catches his attention by tugging at his shirt. Daryl looks down and sees that Ryan’s got a little smiley face sticker with pink glitter on it. 

 

“For me?” Daryl asks.

 

“Uh-huh, to make your leg better,” says Ryan.

 

“Can you put it on this?” Daryl asks, nodding at the crutch in his left hand. 

 

Ryan, with his awkward, little kid fingers, peels the sticker off the paper and then plants it on Daryl’s crutch. He looks up and beams at him, and Daryl is genuinely touched.

 

“Leg feels better already,” he tells Ryan, before telling him and his mom goodbye and following Dr. Peterson down the hall.

 

Dr. Peterson waits patiently as Daryl hobbles over to his chair. For the first time, he uses the recline function on it to elevate his shit leg, and he feels uncomfortably casual and vulnerable laying back in the black armchair. He scoots around trying to find a position that suits him better, but eventually gives up and looks at Dr. Peterson across from him.

 

“Hi,” she says, smiling.

 

“Don’t ask me how I’m feelin’,” Daryl says. “Everyone keeps askin’ me how the fuck I’m feelin’ and I’m gonna start throwin’ punches here soon.”

 

“Noted,” Dr. Peterson says brightly. “Seems like you’ve had a hell of a couple weeks. When’d you get out of the hospital?”

 

“Little over a week ago,” Daryl says. 

 

“Glad to be home?”

 

“Yeah, I guess.” At Dr. Peterson’s furrowed brow, he amends, “I mean, no, I’m real happy to be home and to be with my kids and with Carol—I was goin’ fuckin’ batshit without ‘em—but Carol’s been stuck with all the work lately since I can’t do shit right now, and I hate it. Jojo came down with a cold the other day, and o’ course gave it to JJ, and I think Carol’s gettin’ it, and so everyone’s feelin’ like shit, and I’m doin’ what I can but it don’t never seem like enough and I feel like a real big piece of shit about it.” 

 

“Not exactly your fault, though, is it?”

 

“No, but that don’t make it feel any better when the kids are cryin’ ‘cause they don’t feel good, and I have a hard time multitaskin’ ‘cause I can’t stand very long and ain’t good at usin’ a wheelchair, and Carol’s tellin’ me every five seconds not to worry, that she’s got it, when she shouldn’t have to, you know? Makes me feel like I shouldn’t even bother with…”

 

“Bother with…?” Dr. Peterson prompts, and Daryl sighs, gaze falling to his lap.

 

“I was talkin’ with the guys ‘bout how I was thinkin’ I might pop the question to Carol. Dunno when, but maybe soon.” He hazards a glance up at Dr. Peterson, whose face is neutral. “You gonna tell me it’s a bad idea?”

 

“No,” she says honestly. “Do you want to marry Carol?”

 

“I mean, yeah,” Daryl says shyly, picking at a fingernail. “Still not convinced she wants to marry me. She’s said a few things here and there to suggest she might be down with the idea, but I guess I ain’t gonna know for certain until I ask.  _ If  _ I ask.”

 

“And you’re having trouble with the idea because you’re injured right now and you think that means you, what? Don’t deserve to be her husband?”

 

“She should have someone who can take care of her. She don’t need me to carry her through it all, but I should at least be an equal partner, right?”

 

“But it’s a temporary injury.”

 

“Hopefully. But what if it don’t heal? Or I get hurt again?”

 

“What if Carol has Huntington’s?” Dr. Peterson asks then, and that gives Daryl pause.

 

“What’s that got to do with anything?” he asks.

 

“Well, if she has Huntington’s and you two are married, there’s going to come a point where she’s not going to be able to be an equal partner when it comes to housework and caring for the kids and bringing home money, etc. Do you deserve a wife like that?”

 

“She’d still be Carol even if she’s sick, I ain’t marrying her ‘cause I expect her to never have struggles, and...fuck. You’re doin’ that thing again, ain’t you?” 

 

“Which thing is that?”

 

“That thing where you somehow make me say the opposite of what I been sayin’ to prove a point. Yeah, okay, I get it. If Carol got sick and couldn’t provide anything financially or materially to the family I’d still wanna be married to her, so why wouldn’t it work the same way in reverse, right? That’s what you’re tryna get me to think?”

 

Dr. Peterson shrugs.

 

“So why wouldn’t it work in reverse?” she asks, and Daryl huffs.

 

“‘Cause,” he says.

 

“Because why?”

 

“‘Cause...fuck, I dunno, just ‘cause. I want to give her the world and I can’t even give her a night off.”

 

“You think she could do better than you?”

 

Daryl frowns.

 

“I mean...I feel like I ain’t supposed to say yes.”

 

“You’re supposed to say whatever you feel.”

 

“I feel...like I dunno why it’s so hard for me to think that I’m enough for her. That’s what it is. That’s what it’s always been.” 

 

“So before you get down on any knees, maybe it’d be good to examine that a little further? What do you think?”

 

“Yeah, maybe. Pro’ly.”

 

“And before you get down on any knees, you should probably get your leg back in the game first.” 

 

Daryl smiles a little.

 

“I already made that joke with the guys.”

 

Dr. Peterson gives a solemn shake of the head.

 

“And here I thought I was being original,” she says.

 

—-

 

_ February 8th _

_ Wednesday _

 

(2:02p) *Ok so*

 

(2:02p) *I am about to spill some serious tea.*

 

(2:09p) -wut? ur gna spill tea? y? u dnt even like tea-

 

(2:10p) *No, not literally, dummy.*

 

(2:10p) *Spill tea = tell some piping hot gossip.*

 

(2:11p) -y is tht the phrase?-

 

(2:12p) *Daryl, you are focusing on the wrong fucking thing. I have to tell you what I learned today.*

 

(2:14p) -but i h8 gossip-

 

(2:15p) *I know, but trust me, you’re gonna wanna hear this.*

 

(2:16p) - :/ -

 

(2:16p) -k wut is it?-

 

(2:17p) *Ok, you know my asshole coworker who called me fat when I was pregnant?*

 

(2:18p) -ya-

 

(2:20p) *Well he is officially off my shit list bc get this: When I got to work this morning the first thing he asked me was if I knew a Roger Miller, and I said yeah, that’s my dad, and he was like, didn’t you mention he was engaged? And I was like, yeah, cuz I had been complaining about that to my other coworker some time back, and he was like, are you sure he’s still engaged? And I was like, yeah, why? AND DARYL!!!*

 

(2:21p) *My coworker told me that his cousin had been seeing a Roger Miller for months now and he asked if I had a pic of him and I found one and showed it to him and he was like, yep! That’s him!* 

 

(2:22p) -o wow-

 

(2:22p) -so ur dad is cheating on maria?-

 

(2:23p) *Apparently.* 

 

(2:24p) -wut a piece of shit-

 

(2:25p) *Agreed, but Daryl, do you know what this means?*

 

(2:26p) -wut?-

 

(2:27p) *I have the perfect means for revenge.*

 

(2:29p) -...-

  
(2:29p) -wut r u scheming n r u gna get arrested bc i still cant walk tht gud n idk if u shud go 2 jail rn whn its hard 4 me to take care of the twins alone-

 

(2:30p) *Not gonna get arrested, but you should do something for me.*

 

(2:31p) -...do wut xactly?-

 

(2:32p) *You can consider it your Valentine’s gift to me.*

 

(2:34p) -carol-

 

(2:34p) -wut is it?-

 

(2:35p) *I need you to crash a wedding with me.*

 

(2:36p) -carol no thts a terrible idea wtf-

 

(2:37p) *Imagine it tho. Imagine how satisfying it would be to go to my dad’s shitty wedding and completely ruin it.*

 

(2:38p) -ppl wud b so mad @ u-

 

(2:39p) *They’ll be more mad at my dad for being a cheating asshole. If we’re lucky Maria will have a really big family and they’ll beat my dad into the ground.*

 

(2:42p) -wut xactly do u plan 2 do 2 ruin this wedding?-

 

(2:43p) *I figured I’d wait until the reception after all the papers have been signed and then give a little speech that happens to name drop my dad’s sidepiece. Maybe come prepared with some proof to back it up to make sure everything goes up in smoke properly. My coworker said he can get me some photographic evidence.*

 

(2:44p) -ud wait until after theyre legally married 2 do this?-

 

(2:45p) *Oh for sure. No “speak now or forever hold your peace” shit. Like, I’m pretty sure Maria is just a naive idiot, and I wanna do her this solid by letting her know what a scumbag my dad is, but she /did/ knowingly fuck him when my mom was still alive, so she’s gotta suffer a little bit at least.*

 

(2:47p) -u can b kinda scary u kno tht?-

 

(2:47p) -y do i gotta come?-

 

(2:48p) *Moral support? Bc it would make my dad even madder? Bc I want you to witness just how hardcore and ruthless your girl is, just in case you ever consider having an affair?*

 

(2:49p) -ya thts likely-

 

(2:49p) -this is a bad idea-

 

(2:49p) -u cud just tell maria w/out making a show outta it-

 

(2:50p) *True. /But/ consider the following:*

 

(2:50p) *You and I became teen parents, and before that we were responsible for keeping our families afloat. When have either of us ever gone and pulled some truly ill-advised shenanigans like normal fucking kids?*

 

(2:51p) *I’m 20 now and I’ve spent my whole youth being responsible if you ignore that whole getting knocked up part.*

 

(2:51p) *Let’s have a little harmless fun.*

 

(2:51p) *Harmless to us anyway.*

 

(2:52p) -...-

 

(2:53p) *Crash a wedding with me, Daryl, my love.*

 

(2:54p) - :/ -

 

(2:54p) -u cud tlk me rite off a cliff u kno tht?-

 

(2:54p) -but fine fuk it-

 

(2:54p) -let’s do it-

 

(2:55p) * :D <3 :D <3 !!!*

 

—-

 

_ February 18th _

_ Saturday _

 

Daryl can’t remember the last time he was in a church. Possibly as far back as his mother’s funeral. He never claimed to be a godly man. He and Carol haven’t really discussed how they’re gonna raise the twins in terms of religion. Carol mentioned the possibility of baptism in passing—”Just in case; we don’t wanna damn them on accident,” she’d said—but so far nothing has come from it.

 

The wedding ceremony takes place in a quaint and conservative southern baptist church, and there’s a fleeting moment, as he limps himself inside, that Daryl fears he may burst into flame on the spot.

 

His sins must not be too great, however, because the only thing that happens is a smartly dressed man Daryl’s never met before in his life comes up to him and Carol and asks, “Would you like to sign the guestbook?” 

 

“Of course,” Carol says brightly with her bullshit smile. They go over to the wall where there’s a table with a notebook on top and a sign that says, ‘LEAVE A MESSAGE FOR THE BLESSED COUPLE.’

 

“Behave yourself,” Daryl says, just as Carol asks, “What can I write to piss them off?”

 

Daryl gives her a long-suffering sigh.

 

“We don’t wanna get kicked out right from the jump,” he reminds her. He’s anxious about this whole thing, and is, frankly, ready to go home, so actually, maybe getting kicked out wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

 

“Ooh, I know what I can put that seems harmless but will burn dad up inside,” Carol says conspiratorially.

 

Daryl watches over her shoulder, chewing on his lower lip, as she writes, “Blessings and love! From, The Dixons.” 

 

Daryl swallows and tries to keep his face neutral while Carol draws a few too many hearts after her message before turning around to beam at him.

 

“He’ll want to throw the whole guestbook in the fire,” she says with a cheerful smile, clapping her hands together in triumph. Daryl blinks at her, cycling through his options for response, before giving up and muttering,

 

“C’mon.”

 

He can bare a little weight on his leg now. Not enough to go out without the crutches, much to his chagrin, but he’s at least been foregoing the wheelchair, although that isn’t 100% on doctor’s orders.

 

Carol walks beside him, used to keeping time with his stilted stride, and the two of them go into the chapel and take seats far in the back on the groom’s side.

 

“What do we do if someone recognizes you? Or me, for that matter?” Daryl asks her quietly, eyeing the people filtering into the pews in front of them.

 

“Then we try to play it off as the estranged father-daughter reunion thing,” says Carol.

 

“And if that don’t work?”

 

“You mean if they try to get us thrown out?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Then we change our plans and interrupt the ceremony and make a huge scene while divulging all my dad’s dirty secrets,” she says matter-of-factly, and Daryl frowns.

 

“Great,” he says flatly. Carol casts him a sympathetic smile.

 

“Thank you for indulging me in this truly ridiculous endeavor,” she says. “I love you.”

 

“Yeah yeah,” Daryl mumbles. “Love you, too.”

 

The wedding guest list appears small, with the groom’s side sparse compared to Maria’s. Daryl wonders if it’s because Carol’s dad doesn’t know that many people, or because the people that he does know find these nuptials as questionable as Daryl does.

 

“Oh, I hope it’s okay for me to take a seat next to you, darlings,” an old woman asks, coming up to their row. She’s leaning into her walker and is shaking in a way that suggests that’s simply her natural state.

 

“Uh,” Daryl says.

 

“Of course,” Carol says, voice sweet as sugar. Artificial sugar. She scoots down one seat, and Daryl tries not to grumble as he shifts awkwardly from his aisle chair to the one beside it.

 

“Not worth the whole walk up to the front if we can see it from the back, right?” the old lady says to Daryl, nodding at his crutches. “What’s got you off your feet?”

 

“Um. Broken femur,” Daryl mutters. The old lady hums sympathetically.

 

“Broken hip,” she says, patting her side, as though Daryl had asked. “Not fun, is it?”

 

“No, not especially,” Daryl mutters, looking to Carol for help.

 

“How do you know the groom?” Carol asks the old woman, coming to Daryl’s rescue. 

 

“Distant relative. I was at his first wedding, but we lost touch a few years before Jessica fell ill. I reached out to him after I heard of her passing and he invited me to this one. How about yourselves?”

 

“Uh,” Daryl falters.

 

“My sweetheart here and I actually met Roger last year while volunteering at a soup kitchen,” Carol says quickly, and Daryl smacks her in the thigh discreetly, but she keeps her composure like a goddamn Buckingham Palace guard.

 

“Really?” Old Lady says, surprised. “I had no idea Roger did volunteer work.”

 

“Yeah, he said that after his wife passed away he felt lost—all those years taking care of her, you know—and he said he just had this calling to give back; that it brought meaning back to his life.”

 

“Well bless his heart,” says Old Lady. Daryl narrows his eyes at Carol, who simply smiles back.

 

“It’s a shame about his daughter, though,” Carol says with a heavy sigh.

 

“Oh dear, I haven’t seen her since she was a small thing. What was her name? Kellie? Cara?”

 

“Mm, it’s on the tip of my tongue,” Carol says with a furrowed brow. To Daryl she asks, “Babe, do you remember what it was?”

 

Daryl stares at her in complete silence for a moment.

 

“Carol,” he says in a warning tone.

 

“That’s it,” Carol says, smacking Daryl on the forearm a little harder than necessary.

 

“Oh, that’s right. Of course. Little Carol. What happened to her?” asks Old Lady.

 

“Well, my understanding is that after her mother’s death she ran away from home and went and got herself pregnant.”

 

“Oh dear,” Old Lady sighs. “Mm, I can’t say I’m surprised, though.”

 

Carol blinks.

 

“No?” she says.

 

“Defiant thing when she was a child. Roger was always complaining about her inability to behave. She was weird looking as a baby, too. I always prayed she’d grow into her head.”

 

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Daryl mumbles quickly, reaching for his crutches, but Carol usurps his hand in hers and laces their fingers together, squeezing tight. 

 

“No you don’t,” she says.

 

“Right,” he mutters.

 

“I imagine life got pretty hard for Carol there towards the end of Jessica’s life,” Carol says to Old Lady.

 

“I don’t doubt it, but by the sounds of it, from what Roger and I have talked about, he was the sole caregiver of Jessica in the final stages of her disease. He makes it sound as if Carol wasn’t even there. He hasn’t even mentioned her since we’ve started speaking again. I think she really hurt him,” says Old Lady.

 

“My circulation, babe,” Daryl mutters out of the corner of his mouth, trying not to grimace when Carol’s grip on his hand tightens so hard the tips of his fingers turn purple.

 

“I mean, she  _ was _ losing her mother,” Carol says with a forced calmness.

 

“True, true, but Roger was losing his wife as well. It should have been a moment of solidarity for them, but I guess Carol just didn’t have that emotional capability.”

 

“Right.  _ Carol _ didn’t have the emotional capability.” Carol takes a deep breath. “Don’t you think it’s strange that Roger is marrying again so soon?”

 

“It’s a little fast, but at his age? I imagine it’s a ‘why wait?’ type of thing,” says Old Lady. “Did he tell you how the two of them met?”

 

“No, I’ve never had the pleasure of hearing that story,” Carol says, sucking on the inside of her cheek.

 

“Apparently, the week after Jessica’s funeral, Roger came across Maria broken down on the side of the road and he helped her call for a tow and stayed with her until they came, and I guess he just unloaded on her all of his grief, and they went for coffee the next day with no romantic intentions, but a relationship blossomed naturally over time.” 

 

“Oh that’s bull...tiful. Beautiful. That’s a beautiful story,” Carol says, a vein on the side of her head pulsing. Daryl’s fingers are in the process of being shattered again. Old Lady is giving Carol a strange look, but before she can question anything the organ music changes, signifying the start of the ceremony.

 

“Oh thank god,” Daryl whispers to himself, flexing his hand once Carol frees him and turns to face the front.

 

Daryl realizes belatedly that he’s never been to a wedding, and it’s a unique experience to be attending your first one as an unwelcome guest bent on ruining it with your girlfriend whom you’ve been trying to decide if you want to propose to or not. He finds it impossible, while the ceremony gets going, not to imagine him and Carol. He’s been so focused on the engagement aspect, he forgot to consider the wedding. 

 

Frankly, Daryl would be perfectly fine going the courthouse route, but he has no idea if Carol would want a proper wedding. He can’t see her being one for big, extravagant details, but maybe she’d want to get a real dress, and say real vows, in front of people, out loud, with words. It had never occurred to him until now that vow exchanges closely resemble public speaking, only worse, because it’s all personal stuff being spoken in front of people you will have to look in the eye again once you’re through. 

 

He’d do it. For her, he’d stand at an altar and tell her he will love her with his heart and soul until the end of his days, but goddamn does the whole process sound downright terrifying.

 

“She’s so young,” Carol whispers in his ear, knocking him out of his thoughts. He tunes back in to realize that Maria is walking down the aisle, bouquet in hand, and Carol’s right—she does look remarkably young. Especially in comparison to the middle-aged man waiting for her up at the front.

 

“Dress looks expensive,” Daryl whispers. He’s not a fashion guru by any means, but her studded bustline and silk skirt had to have cost a pretty penny.

 

“Hope she kept the receipt,” Carol whispers, and Daryl covers his snort up with a cough, giving Old Lady a curt apology. 

 

Carol’s father smiles at Maria, but doesn’t look overwhelmed by any means, and it doesn’t sit well with Daryl. What the hell’s the point, he wonders, of asking to be with someone for the rest of your life if you don’t actually want to be with them? Is he so desperate to have someone to play servant to him that he’ll go as far as legally bonding himself to them? 

 

Daryl tries to picture watching Carol walk towards him down an aisle. His first feeling is anxiety, because public displays of affection make him nauseous, but once he puts that aside he finds that, godly man or not, there must be some power at work that lined up his life so perfectly that he’d be allowed something so precious. How sad for Maria that Daryl’s heart speeds up at the mere  _ thought _ of marrying Carol, meanwhile her groom looks no more than mildly satisfied. Finally, Daryl gets all the way in on the sabotage train.

 

“Your dad’s a piece of shit,” he says in Carol’s ear, careful not to let Old Lady hear.

 

“Yes,” she agrees.

 

“Let’s fuck his shit up.” 

 

Carol looks at him and beams.

 

—-

 

The two of them get through the wedding unscathed. If Carol’s dad saw them in the crowd he didn’t acknowledge them at all. He and Maria were declared husband and wife, and Carol and Daryl ducked down in the pews so as not to be seen as the newlyweds made their way down and out of the chapel.

 

Now is the fun part.

 

They make the short drive to the ever-classy recreation center where the reception is being held. There’s limited parking, but they get a spot right by the door with Daryl’s fancy disabled parking permit. Small perks for shit circumstances, or that’s what he tells himself, even though, when nobody’s with him, he refuses to park in those spots, and will instead exhaust himself by walking too far out of pride.

 

“Ready?” Carol asks.

 

“How long are we stayin’ before you ruin everything?” Daryl asks.

 

“I say we give it until everyone’s had at least one drink. Especially Maria’s family. We want some lowered inhibitions going.”

 

“You realize that if anyone tries to angry mob us I won’t be able to run?” 

 

“Of course. Why do you think I brought you? Let you get eaten by the crowd so I can get away,” Carol says sweetly. She laughs at Daryl’s eye roll and kisses him on the cheek.

 

Shoving his nerves down deep, Daryl does the awkward dance of gathering his crutches, getting himself out of the car onto his good leg, and balancing out. Carol waits patiently, knowing better than to offer assistance, and the two of them go inside the rec center, where the party is already in full swing.

 

“Looks like Maria’s family sprung for an open bar,” Carol says with approval. Maria’s guests heavily outweigh Carol’s dad’s, and they are all very excited and cheerful, holding glasses of champagne and mingling.

 

“Your dad here yet?” Daryl asks.

 

“Should be in a minute. Do you think they’d card me if I went and tried to get some booze?” Carol says, eyeing the bar.

 

“Pro’ly,” Daryl says. He shifts around and takes the weight off his shit leg. It seems he’s overworked it today, and it’s telling him so. 

 

Carol notices, of course. She says, “Here, I wanna sit down, let’s find a table.”

 

Daryl knows what she’s doing, and as annoying as it is to be catered to, he’s appreciative that she knows how to do it in a way that makes him feel less helpless.

 

“Are the seats assigned?” Carol asks a man standing nearby. He shakes his head at her and turns back to his conversation. Carol beckons Daryl over to an empty table in the far corner, and they sit down and wait. They sip on water and people watch, keeping an eye out for anyone who might recognize them, but everyone is so wrapped up in their own conversations and drinks that they don’t pay Daryl and Carol any mind.

 

“Our honored guests have arrived!” says some guy Daryl thinks might be Maria’s father ten minutes later. Standing by the front door, Maybe Maria’s Father says, “Introducing Mr. and Mrs. Miller!”

 

Everyone bursts into applause as Carol’s dad and Maria come in and are taken to their seats across the room. Carol claps along with them, but her face betrays her as she scowls at the pair with an expression that’s so nasty it could kill.

 

“I can’t sit here and watch them be all lovey,” Carol says. “Let everyone get their first round of food and then it’s showtime.”

 

“I still get to just sit next to you while you say all the mean things, right?” Daryl asks. 

  
  


“Mhm, just try and throw in some smug glances here and there to punctuate my points.”

 

“‘Kay.”

 

An underwhelming taco bar is opened up and Carol and Daryl wait for the line to die down and for everyone to be seated again. There’s happy chatter among the sounds of eating and chairs moving around and music playing. Carol looks at Daryl expectantly.

 

“Last chance to tell me not to do this,” Carol says. Daryl twists his mouth and shakes his head slowly.

 

“He deserves it,” he says. “ _ You _ deserve it. Do it.”

 

Carol gives Daryl’s hand a quick squeeze before getting to her feet. She picks up her water glass and hits her knife on the side of it repeatedly, a loud pinging sounding out across the room. Gradually, the noise dies down and heads start turning their way. Daryl tries and fails not to blush under the scrutiny. He looks over to where Carol’s dad is seated and knows the instant he spots the two of them, because that same murderous look Carol had been wearing earlier is now plastered on his face.

 

“Excuse me,” Carol says loudly. “Excuse me, can I have your attention?” 

 

Everyone looks at the pair of them in their little secluded corner with mild interest.

 

“Hi,” Carol says brightly once she’s gotten control over the room. “I just had a few quick words I wanted to share with the happy couple. Oh! But of course, silly me, I should probably introduce myself first. My name is Carol Miller. I’m Roger Miller’s daughter.”

 

A few murmurs run through the crowd, and Daryl isn’t sure if people are surprised that Roger MIller has a daughter, or if he’s told so many vile rumors about her that no one expected her to be there. Up at the front Maria, bless her, looks puzzled but not concerned, meanwhile the only person in the room that seems to know what’s coming is Carol’s dad, because he looks like he’s about to spit fire. Carol must sense this, because she hurries right along.

 

“I won’t be long,” she says. “But first I want to say my congratulations. This wedding has been a long time coming. I have to shoutout to Maria for your patience. Waiting for someone’s spouse to die so you can finally go public with your relationship must really take a toll.”

 

The murmurs get louder, and several people exchange glances with each other.

 

“Carol—” Carol’s father starts to say, standing, but Carol cuts him off.

 

“Sorry daddy, I promise I’m almost done. I just have one quick thing to share with you and my new stepmother. It’s a message from Brittany, daddy.”

 

Even from this far away Daryl can see Carol’s dad blanch so hard his face turns white as a sheet. The crowd at this point is as enraptured as they are baffled, and no one even bothers to acknowledge Carol’s dad when he tries to sputter some sort of objection. Carol picks up her phone and pulls up the screenshots. She’d convinced her coworker into roping his cousin into this ordeal, with the promise of revenge on her part as well. Carol reads:

 

_ Dear Roger, _

 

_ I’m sorry but I won’t be able to make our date next weekend. Or any dates after that. As it turns out, you’re a lying sack of shit, and the reason you’re busy this weekend isn’t because you picked up more hours, but because you’re getting married. Did you really have an affair with her when your wife was on her deathbed? For your new wife’s sake, and for your ex’s sake, I hope there’s no one there to keep you company at yours. I hope you choke on your own vomit in your sleep. By the way, I’m keeping those DVDs you left at my place. _

 

_ Get fucked, _

_ Brittany _

 

In the ringing silence that follows, Carol sits her phone down and smiles cheerfully up at her dad.

 

“I think she covered most of it. Oh, and Maria, my dear stepmom,” Carol says sweetly to Maria, who looks at a complete loss. “Hit me up if you want the photographic evidence. I have plenty.” 

 

“Carol, you are way out of line,” her dad says, visibly trembling with anger. Carol is unfazed.

 

“I don’t think you’re in any place to cast aspersions, daddy,” she says solemnly. “I don’t think you can charm your way out of this one. I’m going home now. I want to be with my kids. And not that you would, but if you ever get an inkling of guilt in that narcissistic brain of yours and decide you want to reach out to your grandchildren, don’t. You don’t deserve them.” She clears her throat and claps her hands together, and with her faux cheeriness, she adds, “Anyway! I wish you both a long and stress free marriage!” 

 

She nods at Daryl, and he gets himself to his feet. He feels like he should say something, but he’s not good at saying something, so instead he just looks Carol’s dad dead in the eye and flips him the bird. 

 

No one says anything as they head towards the door, all too shell shocked to do anything.

 

“Oh!” Carol says, halting abruptly. Daryl stops too, frowning. He looks at her and sees her pointing at the old lady from the pews. “By the way,” she says haughtily. “I was a fucking adorable kid with a perfectly normal sized head, and I turned into a straight up babe, so you can shove it right up your ass, bitch.”

 

Not sure if he should laugh, cringe, hide, or some combination of the three, Daryl simply gestures for Carol to follow. The second they’re over the threshold and outside, like stepping away from a detonating bomb, shouting erupts from inside the rec center in their absence. The two of them exchange a glance and say nothing. They get in the car and drive away, identical, satisfied smiles on their lips.

 

—-

 

Back at home, Daryl goes and lays in bed, a couple pillows stacked underneath his shit leg, while Carol lets Henry out. The house is quiet, the twins over at Carol’s aunt’s place for the night. He feels a little guilty, as they left them there with the false pretense that they were going to the wedding to try and make nice, but hopefully she’ll see their point of view. 

 

After a few minutes, Carol comes into the room, and Daryl welcomes her as she crawls in beside him. She props herself on her elbows and grins at him.

 

“I love you so much,” she says, sounding almost giddy, and Daryl snorts.

 

“‘Cause I helped you ruin a wedding?”

 

“Because you understood why I needed to,” she says a little more seriously, and Daryl searches her eyes before nodding.

 

“Our therapists giving us coping mechanisms is all well and good, but sometimes you just need to go and do somethin’ over the top and stupid ‘cause someone hurt you and you wanna hurt them back. Sometimes mindfulness exercises just don’t cut it, you know?”

 

“I know,” Carol says. “Thank you.”

 

She leans up and kisses him on the mouth. He kisses her back, expecting her to pull away after a moment, but she doesn’t. Instead, she uses her tongue to trace the seam of his lips until he gets the hint and parts them. She slips her tongue into his mouth and he lets out an involuntary hum.

 

She kisses him senseless for a good minute or two, her fingers wrapped in his hair. They part to catch their breath, and she peppers his jawline with wet kisses. He tilts his head to give her more access, and his breath catches in his throat when she feels up his chest and asks,

 

“How’s your leg doing?”

 

“Depends on why you’re askin’,” Daryl says, distracted by her fingers playing with a button on his shirt.

 

“Hypothetically,” she says softly, lips to his ear so that he can feel her hot breath. “If someone approximately, hm, let’s say...me-sized were to straddle your hips, would that hurt you?”

 

“No,” Daryl says quickly. Carol leans back so she can look him in the eye.

 

“Are you sure?” she asks with more concern than flirt in her voice this time. 

 

“I am,” Daryl assures her. “Are  _ you _ ?” 

 

Carol cups his cheek and presses a chaste kiss to his lips.

 

“Yes,” she says. “Or at least I want to try.”

 

“Okay,” Daryl says quietly. He waits for her to make the next move, letting this be her show entirely. She catches on, and she undoes the button she’d been playing with. As well as the one below that one, and all subsequent ones, until Daryl’s shirt is entirely open on the front. He inhales sharply as she nips gently at his skin. She runs her hands up his torso and leans in to kiss him again. Daryl pushes up the side of her dress, his hand finding bare thigh. He snakes his hand up further, running a hand over her hip, along the dip of her waist, and along a few of her ribs.

 

She sits back abruptly and for a second Daryl thinks he’s gone too far too fast, but instead she lifts her dress up and over her head. She reaches behind her back and undoes the clasp of her bra, letting it fall off her shoulders, and she tosses it aside onto the floor. 

 

Daryl’s seen her naked a million times since she gave birth, but never in this context. Her hips are wider apart, her breasts are a different shape, and her belly has loose skin etched with stretch marks, and Daryl can tell by the tension in her shoulders that she’s worried about what he’s going to think of her now that she’s got a postpartum body. 

 

“My body looks different,” she says, almost like an apology.

 

She’s right. Her body is no longer just the body of the woman he loves. Her body is now also the body that made and gave birth to his children. 

 

“You’re so pretty, Carol,” Daryl says, almost overwhelmed with affection. Carol lets out a small laugh with an accompanying shy smile. 

 

“Flirt.”

 

“Just sayin’,” Daryl says, looking her up and down and drinking her in. “‘Sides, what was it you told that old lady you are? A straight up babe?” 

 

“Oh my god, shut up,” Carol laughs, leaning down again to kiss him.

 

“Mm, you’re right, you are a straight up babe,” Daryl says, voice muffled against her mouth.

 

“And you’re a sultry woodsman,” Carol says, making Daryl snort. She pulls away to smirk at him and he reaches out to push her hair out of her face.

 

“I wanna…” Daryl says, trailing off. Carol, not dropping her smirk, raises an eyebrow.

 

“You wanna what?” she asks.

 

“That thing that I like to do,” he mumbles, and Carol poorly suppresses a grin.

 

“Daryl Dixon, use your words.”

 

“Hate using my words, though. You know what I’m talkin’ about.”

 

“Mm, do I?” Carol asks, sucking lightly on his collarbone. 

 

“Yes.”

 

“Use your words,” she says again, and he huffs a sigh.

 

“Iwannaeatyouout,” he says in a rush. He’s come a long way from that blushing virgin reading Buzzfeed sex tips for hours on end, but he’s still got a ways to go at overtly communicating his sexual wants and needs.

 

“Mm, that’d be nice,” Carol hums. “Little problem, though. How do you propose to do that? You can’t get on top of me or below me, your leg is broken.”

 

“I mean…” Daryl clears his throat. “My face isn’t.” 

 

Carol blinks at him before realization washes over her and she lets out a surprised laugh.

 

“Are you saying you want me to…” She trails off, making an incomprehensible gesture. It’s Daryl’s turn to smirk.

 

“Use your words,” he says, and Carol glares at him, her mouth parted, tongue in between her teeth. She places a hand on either side of his shoulders, her breasts brushing against him. She bites his lower lip lightly, and then asks quietly,

 

“Are you asking me to sit on your face?”

 

It takes all of Daryl’s strength of will to keep his composure and eye contact as he answers,

 

“Yes, please.” 

 

Carol regards him for just a moment, before sliding her panties down off her legs. He takes this opportunity to take his shirt all the way off, and these items of clothing join the “Deal With It Later” pile on the floor. Carol hesitates.

 

“What if I suffocate you?” she asks. Daryl grins.

 

“Worse ways to go,” he says.

 

“Pfft, idiot,” Carol mutters. Tentatively, she crawls up the bed and positions herself so she’s straddling Daryl’s face. “I feel silly,” she says.

 

“Really? ‘Cause I’m just enjoyin’ the view,” Daryl says, heart beating in his throat. He laughs a little when Carol bops him on the forehead with the back of her hand. 

 

“Just eat me out, smartass,” she says, and Daryl feels a hint of smugness when she gasps as his mouth finds her. 

 

He digs his fingers into her thighs while she makes obscene little noises above him. He was worried he’d be out of practice, but as strange as the comparison is, eating Carol out is like riding a bike—he’d never forget how. 

 

She cums hard against his lips, legs trembling. Daryl isn’t sure how often, if at all, she touches herself, and it’s possible that was the first orgasm she’s had in a very long time, so when she goes to move away, Daryl holds her in place, because she deserves more than just one.

 

“Daryl, what—” she start, and cuts herself off when Daryl slides a finger inside her. He adds another and gets her going that way until enough time has passed for her to be less sensitive, and then his tongue finds her clit all over again.

 

Carol is usually fairly quiet, and she’s not screaming like she’s in a porno right now by any means, but he’s definitely not being kept in the dark about how she’s feeling. It takes a little longer to get her off the second time around, but it’s doubly as satisfying when she does finally climb off of him and collapses in a heap beside him, looking at him like he’s a magician.

 

“The fuck was that?” she asks, catching her breath. Daryl shrugs, wiping his face with the back of his hand. 

 

“Go team?” he asks, holding up his hand. She laughs and raises a lazy hand up to give him a pathetic high five.

 

“Condom,” she says. “Find a condom while I recover. And like, quadruple check the expiration date. No more babies.”

 

“No more babies,” Daryl agrees, already digging through the bedside table drawer. He pulls out a condom—one that is still perfectly good—and a bottle of lube that he still has from when he bought too many bottles that first time he ever tried to buy any.

 

“Gimme,” Carol says, her hand out, palm up. Daryl gives her the condom. She gets up onto her knees and starts undoing Daryl’s pants. “Help me, I don’t want to hurt you,” she says, carefully sliding his pants over his brace.

 

“You won’t. The incision is all healed, sweetheart, it’s putting weight on it that hurts the worst. I’m ain’t glass, I promise,” Daryl says, lifting up his hips and letting her take off his pants and boxers. He feels little twinges of pain, but nothing he can’t handle. Especially once he’s free of his clothes and Carol’s opening the condom wrapper.

 

“I know you’re not glass, but you tell me if something doesn’t feel right, okay?” she says sternly once the condom is on.

 

“Same to you,” he says. “If you decide you can’t or don’t wanna do this you tell me and I’ll stop right away, promise.”

 

“Okay,” Carol says, nodding. 

 

“C’mere,” Daryl says, tugging her by the arm so she gets the hint to come up and kiss him. They kiss for a long moment, before mutually pulling away. Carol bites her lip as she straddles Daryl’s hips. He can tell she’s watching him closely for any signs of pain, but frankly he’s much too distracted to notice if he is or not.

 

“Why does this feel so new?” she asks. “We’ve had sex a thousand times.”

 

“‘Cause it’s different,” Daryl says simply. “It just is.” 

 

Carol seems to accept this. 

 

Daryl is liberal with the lube—partially to make it as easy as possible for her, and also because he accidentally squeezed too much into his palm—and he rests his hands on her legs.

 

“Ready?” she asks him breathlessly.

 

“So long as you are,” he says. 

 

Carol lowers herself down onto him. She winces a little, but cuts off his question before he can even form it with a quick, “I’m fine.” She takes all of him in, and they both sit there for just a moment, looking at each other and remembering what it’s like to be this close. 

 

Daryl runs his hands all over her body as she rides him. He finds her clit again, and finds a rhythm with her, until she’s cumming a third time, and he’s right there behind her, feeling like he did the first time they ever had sex—like he can’t believe sensations like these exist.

 

Once they’ve cleaned up and are curled up together, Carol’s head in it’s familiar place resting against Daryl’s chest, Daryl asks,

 

“Should I be concerned that revenge makes you really horny or should I just find more people to sabotage?” 

 

Carol laughs and flicks him in the side.

 

“Shut up,” she says. “It wasn’t the revenge.”

 

“What was it then?” Daryl asks more seriously.

 

“You,” Carol says. “It was seeing how unhealthy relationships can be, and knowing that even though ours isn’t perfect, you will always go out of your way to fix the problems instead of just writing them off. It was seeing how poorly I could be treated—remembering how poorly I  _ was _ treated—and realizing I never have to worry about that with you.”

 

Daryl rubs her arm and furrows his brow.

 

“It’s so cruel to claim to love someone just so you can screw them over,” he says after a beat. “I could never do that to you.”

 

“You could never do that to anyone. I’m just lucky enough to be a person you chose to love.”

 

“Weren’t a choice,” Daryl tells her quietly. “Loving you was somethin’ that happened to me. And tell you what? I am damn sure happy that it did.”

 

He hears the smile in her voice when she says,

 

“I sure am, too.”

 

—-

 

_ Hey Lil’ Twins, _

 

_ Listen. As your daddy I gotta tell you the difference from good and bad, right and wrong, all that stuff. And when you break the rules I’m gonna have to punish you cuz that’s how you learn. Nothing too bad. Just timeouts and maybe being grounded, I dunno, you’re still small so I ain’t had to think that far. But I wanna tell you this, just this one time: Not everything that’s wrong is 100% wrong and not everything bad is 100% bad. Sometimes things are in the middle, and sometimes you just wanna say f it and do what you want, and you know what? That’s okay. Do what you want sometimes. Not always. Don’t put yourself in danger or anyone else. But I want you to live your best lives and aint no one lived their best life following every rule down to the letter, alright? _

 

_ Don’t tell your mom I told you that, though. _

 

_ Love you, you lil troublemakers, _

_ Dad _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHHHHHHH
> 
> do you kno
> 
> how long
> 
> i've been tryna
> 
> finish this chapter?
> 
> a long time, fam. i'm out of town and i've been trying to sneak away to finish this but i could only get a couple paragraphs done at a time, so my apologies for being so late, but jfc this took me foreverrrr.
> 
> that being said, though, my upcoming weeks are a little scattered, bc i'm gonna be out of town a second time and will prob have even less time to write. my update schedule should be the same for the next week or so, but then it'll be messed up again. i'll give you a heads up, tho. the next chapter will prob be up friday evening, cuz that's when i get home.
> 
> it is 3:34 in the morning. what am i doing with my life?
> 
> ok goodbye,  
> -diz


	26. Dick and Fartyl vs. The Spider, & Other Stories

_ March 13th _

_ Monday _

 

“Bababababa,” Jesse says, explaining that he’s giving up on tummy time. He rolls onto his back on the playmat.

 

“Yeah, Jojo’s kicking our asses, huh?” Daryl agrees, also on the floor, trying to balance on all fours but his shit leg gives out when he tries to put full weight on it, and he rolls over onto his back as well next to Jesse.

 

Beside them, Jose’s on hands and knees in peak crawling form.

 

“Bababa,” Jesse tells Daryl.

 

“Nah we don’t get mad that she’s doin’ better than us. We cheer her on.” Daryl sits up, his good leg bent inwards and his shit one straight out in front of him. He helps Jesse up, too, and takes hold of his little hands, clapping them together for him. “Say, go on, Sissy! Kick it in the ass! You can do it! Daddy and brother are rootin’ for you!” 

 

Jesse giggles with delight, clapping by himself now, while babbling incessantly. Josie rocks a little, like she might be raring to go forward, but instead she gets tired and plops back down onto her tummy. She rolls onto her back, just like her boys, and sternly tells Daryl,

 

“Lalalala.”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” Daryl says, leaning over to sit her up, too. “Zero outta three so far tonight. Oh well. How about you, Henry?” 

 

Daryl looks to the dog who is laying down nearby watching them. Without warning, he rolls onto his back, tongue lolling, and Josie giggles at him, saying, “Lalala la lala lalala.” Henry sits up, and all four of them are together in a line on the floor.

 

Just then, the front door opens, and the four of them all turn to see Carol coming home from work. There’s a brief moment where they all stare at each other, before Henry can’t stand it anymore and runs up to greet her. Jesse starts rapid fire babbling at her, Josie flaps her arms up and down excitedly, and Daryl gives her a smile. 

 

“Am I interrupting something?” Carol asks, scratching Henry behind the ears.

 

“Nope, we was just all practicing crawling,” says Daryl.

 

“Yeah?” asks Carol, hanging up her coat. She crosses her arms. “And how’s that goin’?” 

 

“Shitty. None of us can crawl,” Daryl says, and Carol laughs. 

 

“You’ll get there.”

 

“You should show them how it’s done, ‘cause I can’t,” Daryl says. Carol raises an eyebrow.

 

“I should what now?” 

 

“Crawl over here and join us,” he says, patting the ground next to him. Carol scoffs, but Daryl doesn’t let her off the hook. “It’s a teaching opportunity. It’s for learning,” he explains.

 

“Oh for the love of...fine.” Carol rolls her eyes, but even as she does she’s lowering herself to the floor. Both Jesse and Josie laugh when she crawls over to them on all fours.

 

“See, momma’s got us all beat,” Daryl says to the twins. He helps Carol up and kisses her hello. Henry comes back over and takes a seat by Josie.

 

“How was your day?” Carol asks Daryl.

 

“I did a little manual work instead of doin’ all of Dale’s boring-ass paperwork, so not too bad,” he says.

 

“Were you nice to your leg?”

 

“I was niceish to my leg?” Daryl says, and Carol sighs.

 

“I’ll pick my battles, but don’t go overexerting yourself all the time.”

 

“I’m s’posed to strengthen it, ain’t I?”

 

“Yes, but you have a tendency to go too big too fast.”

 

They have this argument every day.

 

“Ba!” Jesse says then, displeased that he isn’t receiving any attention.

 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, my poor neglected son,” Carol says dramatically with a smile. She reaches over to tickle his foot while asking, “And what did you two do today?”

 

Jesse fills his mother in on his whole day, start to finish, or at least that’s what it seems like, while Josie plays with a very tolerant Henry’s nose. She only turns her attention to Carol when she leans over to plant a kiss on her chubby cheek, and she grants her mom a small smile. 

 

“How about your day?” Daryl asks. He has Carol scoot in front of him so he can start rubbing her shoulders.

 

“Objectively fine and uneventful,” she says, sounding somewhat melancholy, and Daryl frowns.

 

“But you weren’t feelin’ fine?” he asks, pressing his thumbs against a knot at the base of her neck. She shrugs.

 

“Eh,” she says. “It’s just been a blah day in terms of, you know, brain stuff.” 

 

“You depressed?” 

 

“More like on the borderline of being depressed. I think it’s the weird weather, plus I started my period this morning, so that might be amplifying things.”

 

“Wanna do your positivity journal real fast?” Daryl asks, and she hums.

 

“Sure, why not?” she says.

 

“‘Kay, go for it.”

 

“The insurance money from the accident finally came through so we can start looking to get me a new car soon.”

 

“One.”

 

“I had a great welcoming committee when I came home today.” She casts a smile at the twins and Henry.

 

“Two.”

 

“My ass looks really good in these jeans.”

 

“It does. Three.”

 

“Our friends’ spring breaks all line up again so we get to see them all at once next week.” 

 

“Four.”

 

“I found a Snickers bar I hid from you last month in my tampon box this morning.” 

 

“Five, and also rude.” He kisses her behind the ear. “I was thinkin’ of heatin’ up that chili and makin’ the kids some baby cereal and we could put on somethin’ dumb on TV and eat together, and then maybe we could take Henry for a walk since it’s finally nice out tonight. Think that might help?”

 

“Sounds like a nice night to me, and I’m willing to give it a try.

 

“Good,” Daryl says, wrapping his arms around her from behind. “Then let me figure out how to get my crippled ass off this floor and I’ll heat up supper.” 

 

“Sure you don’t wanna try and crawl to the kitchen?” Carol asks. Daryl flicks her in the side and she jumps with a laugh.

 

“I love you a whole lot for what a smartass you are,” he says. “Now toss me my crutches, ‘cause I really can’t crawl.”

 

—-

 

_ March 14th _

_ Tuesday _

 

“Your leg is  _ still _ broken?” asks Ryan when Daryl gets into the waiting room. Daryl huffs, taking a seat, sitting his crutches adise and rubbing his aching thigh.

 

“Yeah, bud, still broken. Ain’t I walkin’ better, though?”  

 

“Mm, you still got sticks,” Ryan says doubtfully.

 

“Well yeah, ‘course I do, that’s where my sticker’s at,” Daryl says, pointing at his little, glittery smiley face sticker that’s looking a bit worse for wear, but is right where Ryan stuck it several weeks ago. “How am I s’posed to get better without it?”

 

Ryan twists his mouth and then nods, accepting Daryl’s sound logic. Daryl glances up and gives Rachel a small smile, who returns it. 

 

“Hey,” he tells her.

 

“Hi,” she says. “You do seem like you’re better. How are you feeling?”

 

Daryl catches himself from bristling at the question—she means well, he reminds himself, resigned.

 

“Physical therapist added some exercises so it’s sore but definitely stronger. I can keep some weight on it when I’m walkin’, most of the time.” 

 

“Good, I’m so glad. You don’t strike me as the type who does well with being immobile.”

 

Daryl would bet money that Carol has told Rachel how much he’s bitched over the past couple months, but he humors her anyway.

 

“Never been one for sittin’ around,” he says, and she casts him a sympathetic look he tries not to be irritated by. “Hey, what are you doin’ tonight?” he asks her then, changing the subject.

 

“Just the usual. Why?”

 

“Carol was feelin’ kinda down yesterday and I was thinkin’ she could use a night off now that I can watch the kids by myself again. You think your ol’ man might watch your lil’ monkey here if you and her went out or somethin’?” he asks, while Ryan climbs on and off chairs. Rachel sticks her lower lip out in thought.

 

“I can ask,” she says. “I could use a night off, too, truth be told. I’ll text her; see what she might want to do.” 

 

“Daryl?” Dr. Peterson says in the doorway. Daryl holds a finger to her, and to Rachel, says,

 

“I appreciate it. No big deal if you can’t, but she always feels a bit better when she gets outta the house, even when she don’t think she will.”

 

“I can relate to that,” Rachel says knowingly. “I’ll try and set something up.”

 

Daryl thanks her, tells Ryan goodbye with a rustling of his hair, before limping after Dr. Peterson down their familiar route to her office.

 

He takes a seat, stubbornly forgoing the recline function. He can’t help his grimace, though, when his leg throbs when he jostles around.

 

“Sore today?” Dr. Peterson asks casually, sitting in her spot across from him. 

 

“The kids and I were doin’ crawling practice last night and I overdid it a little. No big deal.”

 

“Crawling practice, huh? Any luck?”

 

“Carol’s the only one who can do it,” Daryl says, and Dr. Peterson laughs.

 

“Well, you guys’ll get there, and trust me, you’ll miss the days where they can’t get into everything. Are you ready for mobile babies?”

 

“Haven’t really thought of it like that,” Daryl says. “It’s just cool when they learn new stuff. They’re real smart. They got Carol’s brains.” 

 

“You think you don’t have brains?” 

 

“Not like her.”

 

“Hm.”

 

Daryl rolls his eyes.

 

“Whatever. I’m a genius; basically Einstein. Better?”

 

“Looking forward to seeing your work in quantum physics, Dr. Dixon,” Dr. Peterson says with a smile, and Daryl huffs a laugh in spite of himself.

 

“Shut up,” he mumbles.

 

“The mental image of you trying to crawl with your kids is pretty endearing, though, I’ll give you that.”

 

“Pfft, I guess. They’re fun right now; cool age. They ain’t nappin’ as much so we kinda just play together all the time. JJ really likes toys that make music or talk, and Jojo can spend a whole damn hour lookin’ at toys with new textures and sounds. They both like bein’ read to. I ain’t good at readin’ out loud, but most of their books only got like, twenty words in ‘em, so I manage. JJ tries to read with me, which is so funny. That kid is always talking up a storm, and Jojo’s like me where she’ll only talk when she’s got somethin’ she’s really gotta say. She just listens and looks. You can tell she’s a lil’ sponge, meanwhile her brother’s  _ gotta _ be a part of it to really care about it. He’s got no patience for watchin’ if he can’t be hands on, you know? I don’t like playin’ shows and stuff for ‘em all that much, but JJ don’t really like ‘em anyway ‘cuz he can’t touch and play with the cartoons or whatever. Jojo stares like she can’t believe there’s so many colors and sounds in one place, but I’d rather she see real stuff ‘fore she gets all sucked up in TV. We only use it if she’s fussy, but she’s usually only fussy if she needs somethin’, so it’s usually easy to get her calmed down without it.” Daryl pauses and frowns. “Wait, what was the question again?” 

 

“I didn’t ask a question,” Dr. Peterson says conversationally, looking like she’s trying not to laugh.

 

“Oh.”

 

“You certainly know your kids,” Dr. Peterson says, and Daryl shrugs.

 

“Yeah, well, I pay attention to ‘em. I spend time with ‘em.” He chews his lower lip and picks at a cuticle, before adding,  “No one ever paid attention to me, you know? ‘Cept to tell me I was a fuck up and to...you know. Do what he’d do.”

 

“When Carol was pregnant a big fear of yours was turning into your father, or not knowing how to parent because you didn’t have positive role models. Now that the twins have been here for, what? Half a year now? How are you feeling about that now?” 

 

Daryl knits his brow together and casts his gaze down to his legs. He takes a deep breath and lifts his head to meet Dr. Peterson’s eye.

 

“I’m a damn good daddy,” he says. “Least so far. I dunno what it’ll be like when they’re more grown, but right now? I’m fuckin’ ace.”

 

Dr. Peterson, who keeps a neutral face most of the time, beams at him.

 

“That’s the most positive thing I’ve ever heard you say about yourself,” she says.

 

“That’s the most positive thing I’ve ever said about myself ever,” he says with a shy smile.

 

“Got anything else you wanna share? Pile it on?”

 

“Nah,” Daryl mumbles. He twists his mouth and says, “Actually? Yeah.”

 

“Oh?” Dr. Peterson asks with an eyebrow raise. “Do tell.”

 

“Last night Carol came home and her depression was flarin’ up a lil’, and I had her eat supper with us, and go for a walk, and bathe the kids with me, and when we went to bed she told me that she was grateful that she was with someone who knew exactly what to do to keep her head above water, and like...she’s right. I did know. I didn’t need to think about it at all. I dunno how, but I just like,  _ know _ how to take care of her.”

 

“You pay attention to her,” Dr. Peterson says softly. “You spend time with her.”

 

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

 

“So what does that mean?”

 

“I dunno.”

 

“Don’t you?”

 

Daryl shrugs and trains his gaze on his lap again.

 

“Maybe it means I’m good for her,” he says quietly. He rubs his shit leg and hazards a glance up at Dr. Peterson, who gives him a knowing smile.

 

“Maybe it does,” she says.

 

—-

 

(8:58p) -wut r u guys up 2-

 

(9:00p) ~“writing” my essay for women’s lit.~

 

(9:00p) ~read: watching live play d&d videos on youtube.~

 

(9:00p) ~excited to finally start our campaign next week??~

 

(9:01p) -no-

 

(9:01p) >No.<

 

(9:02p) >Also, in answer to your question, Daryl, I was watching this indie film with Michonne, but she fell asleep so now I’m watching baseball because that movie was boring and also in portuguese.<

 

(9:02p) >Why do you ask?<

 

(9:03p) -no reason just bored-

 

(9:03p) -carol is @ a movie w/ her mommy grp friend-

 

(9:03p) -p sure its in english-

 

(9:03p) -n im just laying arnd in bed listening 2 jj tlk 2 himself over the bb monitor-

 

(9:04p) ~haha, does that kid ever stop babbling?~

 

(9:05p) -no-

 

(9:05p) -he’ll literally tlk himself 2 slp-

 

(9:06p) >Rofl, poor Josie.<

 

(9:07p) -ya im p sure if she cud she’d b rollin her eyes @ him all the gd time-

 

(9:07p) -they luv each other tho they get fussy whn theyre apart 2 long-

 

(9:07p) -idk theyre strange kids r strange-

 

(9:08p) ~seems like it. especially twins.~

 

(9:09p) >What else is up? You don’t usually start conversations just bc you’re bored. Usually that’s one of us.<

 

(9:10p) -idk nthn rly-

 

(9:10p) -ig therapy was kinda weird 2day-

 

(9:11p) >Why?<

 

(9:12p) -i said nice things abt myself?-

 

(9:13p) ~i didn’t know you could do that.~

 

(9:14p) -ya me either-

 

(9:15p) >What’d you say that was nice?<

 

(9:16p) -i tlked abt how im a rly gud dad 2 my kids so far-

 

(9:16p) -n then i tlked abt how yesterday i was able 2 cheer carol up whn she was depressed n how i knew how 2 take care of her-

 

(9:16p) -like mb better thn anyone else can n mb i am actually gud 4 her like she says-

 

(9:17p) ~yo, that’s a big step dude.~

 

(9:18p) >Yeah, it really is.<

 

(9:19p) -ya-

 

(9:19p) -i been thinkin abt how i been worried abt not being a gud enuf husband if we got married n like-

 

(9:19p) -mb i wud b?-

 

(9:20p) ~rick, do we sigh heavily at him because that’s what we’ve been telling him for months?~

 

(9:20p) >Nah, he had to get there himself. Let’s just be proud of him.<

 

(9:21p) ~aight.~

 

(9:21p) ~we’re proud of you, daryl.~

 

(9:22p) -uh huh-

 

(9:23p) >Rofl.<   
  


(9:23p) >Really, though.<

 

(9:24p) -thnx-

 

(9:25p) ~so what does that mean for The Big Question?~

 

(9:25p) ~are you feeling more ready for it?~

 

(9:26p) -i mean-

 

(9:26p) -mb?-

 

(9:26p) -like im still rly scared of wut she mite answer or if i’ll ruin everything but idk if i’ll ever b 100% not afraid of tht so-

 

(9:26p) -fuk it? mb?-

 

(9:27p) >You sound a lot more confident.<

 

(9:28p) -on the other hand tho…...-

 

(9:29p) ~here we go.~

 

(9:30p) -we r doin rly well rn n me proposing mite fuk it up-

 

(9:31p) ~wait, your argument is that since your relationship is happy and healthy right now you shouldn’t propose?~

 

(9:31p) ~what’s the alternative? you propose when things are shitty? yeah that’s smart.~

 

(9:32p) -idk man theres no gud answer-

 

(9:33p) >That’s because this isn’t something that’s black and white. I think you gotta go by feeling, brother.<

 

(9:34p) -but feelings r confusing-

 

(9:35p) ~at least you’re way better at them than you used to be. imagine high school daryl trying to figure this out.~

 

(9:36p) >High school Daryl would have disappeared into himself like a turtle and we would’ve never seen him again.<

 

(9:37p) -high skool daryls brain wud have exploded n he wud have died-

 

(9:37p) -thts weird 2 think abt tbh-

 

(9:37p) -a lot has happened since then huh?-

 

(9:38p) ~oh yeah.~

 

(9:38p) >Understatement.<

 

(9:38p) ~for example, how’s jessie’s conversation with himself going?~

 

(9:39p) -lol he keeps making lil noises so i think he fell aslp but is still tryna tlk-

 

(9:40p) ~what a dork.~

 

(9:41p) -rite? hes real cute-

 

(9:41p) -luv him-

 

(9:41p) -luv both of them-

 

(9:41p) -so so so so much-

 

(9:42p) >They were a decision you made with your gut feelings, you know.<

 

(9:43p) -ya ig thts tru-

 

(9:44p) ~maybe your judgment isn’t as off the mark as you sometimes think it is.~

 

(9:45p) -ya…-

 

(9:45p) -mb it aint-

 

—-

 

_ March 19th _

_ Sunday _

 

“Okay, so the two of you get through the door and end up in a dark, dank chamber, and in the chamber there’s a giant spider. Like, think Shelob,” says Glenn.

 

“Who?” asks Daryl.

 

“Shelob the spider?  _ Lord of the Rings _ ?”

 

“Nerd,” says Rick. “But okay, there’s a big spider in the room.”

 

“A  _ really _ big spider,” Glenn clarifies.

 

“A really big spider. What’s it doing? Does it notice us?” 

 

“It heard you bangng down the door so it’s already waiting for you once you enter the chamber, and it doesn’t look too happy. In fact, it looks angry. And hungry. Hangry, if you will. So let’s roll initiative. Remember what that one is?” 

 

“Roll the twenty-sided dice, right?” Daryl asks, pucking his D20 from his small pile of dice.

 

“And add the dexterity modifier? Highest number goes first in the fight?” Rick asks.

 

“Yep, and I’ll roll for the spider. Go ahead.”

 

The three of them are sat around the dining room table at Glenn’s house, their rule books, character sheets, and dice out in front of them. Glenn has a couple file folders up around him, keeping his area of the table out of view from the others. They’re about twenty minutes into their first Dungeons and Dragons campaign, and Daryl is too caught up in trying to remember what all the goddamn dice rolls are for to be grumpy about having to play. 

 

“I got a fourteen,” he says, his D20 clattering to a stop after he’s tossed it onto the table. 

 

“Fifteen,” says Rick.

 

“Mkay, Dick makes the first move,” says Glenn, looking up over his file folders.

 

“Cool. What do I do now?” Rick asks.

 

“Anything you want,” says Glenn.

 

“Should I attack it?”

 

“If you want to.”

 

“It hasn’t done anything to us yet, how do I know it’s not secretly a good spider and is vital to our mission?” 

 

“Something to consider, sure.”

 

“I don’t  _ have _ to hurt it?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“I can do anything?”

 

“As long as it’s within the rules, yeah.”

 

“Can I seduce it?”

 

Glenn blinks.

 

“You want to fuck a big spider?” he asks. 

 

“A  _ really _ big spider,” Daryl says helpfully.

 

“Yes,” says Rick. “I would like to seduce and subsequently make love to the really big spider.”

 

“This is your first ever battle. Are you sure this is the precedent you want to set?” Glenn asks, sounding almost pleading. 

 

“Absolutely,” says Rick. Daryl snorts.

 

“I mean, you did say he could do anything,” he says. Glenn narrows his eyes at him.

 

“Fine,” Glenn says to Rick. “But you have to roll a charisma check.”

 

“‘Kay,” Rick says. He tosses his D20 onto the table, glances at it, and says, “I got a twenty. What’d you say that’s called? A natural twenty?”

 

Glenn sets his jaw.

 

“Yeah,” he says flatly. “A nat’ twenty. Okay, Dick goes up to this really big spider and does some sort of spider mating dance that really gets it going, and you successfully seduce it and go to bonetown with the spider.”

 

“Can I use my free action to turn around so I don’t have to watch Dick fuck a spider?” Daryl asks.

 

“Yeah, Fartyl turns around.”

 

“We’ve only been traveling together for like, less than a day in game time. This probably isn’t a good first impression, huh?” Rick asks Daryl.

 

“Makes our relationship kinda weird, yeah,” Daryl agrees.

 

“Okay, Rick, Dick shows the really big spider the time of its life and it like, immediately cums, and its jizz is a potent, acidic poison. Make a dexterity saving throw,” Glenn says smugly. Rick rugs and throws his D20 again.

 

“I add this number from my character sheet to it, right?” he asks.

 

“Mhm.”

 

“Eighteen.”

 

“Oh son of a—fine. The really big spider cums so hard that all the jizz hits the back wall and partially melts the stone. Happy?”

 

“Yes,” Rick says.

 

“Whatever. Daryl, what does Fartyl do? Please don’t say fuck the spider.”

 

“Nah, I wanna hit it with my bow.”

 

“Okay, make an attack roll.”

 

“Wait wait wait,” Rick says. “I think Daryl should have advantage because the spider is busy jizzing so it’s technically a surprise attack. You said those are a thing, right?” 

 

Glenn bites the inside of his cheek.

 

“ _ Fine _ . Fartyl gets advantage on this attack because Dick went and rocked this really big spider’s world.”

 

“That’s why I’m called Dick. I have an awesome penis. That’s in my backstory now,” Rick says.

 

“Do  _ not _ fuck every enemy we come across, please,” Glenn begs.

 

“Babababa,” comes a baby’s babbling from behind them. The three of them look over to see Carol, Michonne, and Maggie standing in the doorway, with Jesse and Josie all strapped up in their double stroller. All of them are staring blankly at the guys.

 

“It’s, uh, part of our game,” Glenn says after an awkward beat of silence. 

 

“Right,” says Maggie.

 

“Of course,” Michonne adds.

 

“We’re gonna...take the kids to the park now,” Carol says. The boys nod.

 

“Sounds good,” Daryl says. “Have fun.”

 

“Uh huh,” Carol says. “Goodbye.”

 

The guys watch in silence as the girls head out of the room. The front door opens and closes, and the three of them turn back to each other.

 

“Anyway,” Glenn says. “Daryl, it’s your roll.”

 

—-

 

_ March 24th _

_ Friday _

 

Daryl is sitting at the base of a tree that’s near the garage. He comes here on his lunch breaks sometimes to eat, because even though he may not 100% be that brooding recluse he used to be, some habits die hard.

 

The grass he’s sitting on is just starting to turn green again. Daryl’s not sure if being immobile has amplified every negative feeling he’s had over the past three months, but he swears winter was endless this year, as if Georgia had forgotten it was in the deep south.

 

It’s nice out today, though, the temperature close to perfect, with a slight breeze that rustles the sprouting buds on the tree branches. Daryl takes a sloppy bite of his turkey and cheese sandwich and listens to the sounds of spring arriving around him.

 

His moment of serenity is cut short when his phone starts vibrating next to him. Daryl pulls himself out of his reverie and checks the caller ID, seeing a number he doesn’t recognize. He debates for a second—he hardly ever wants to talk on the phone to people he  _ likes _ , so why would he bother answering for a stranger?—but then at once a million intrusive thoughts about what could be happening to Carol or the kids slam into his head, and he has no choice but to answer the call.

 

“Hello? he says into the receiver. There’s a beat of silence.

 

“Hey,” a hesitant voice comes from the other side of the line, and Daryl’s instantly hit with a dose of, ‘son of a bitch,’ with a heaping side helping of, ‘I don’t want to deal with this.’ He sits his sandwich down and leans back against the tree, not bothering to stifle his sigh.

 

“Well there ain’t no automated voice askin’ me to accept charges so I’m assumin’ you ain’t locked up,” he says to his brother, and Merle huffs a laugh on the other end.

 

“Depends on your definition of locked up. This place feels worse than the slammer some days.”

 

Daryl absently pulls up and tears apart blades of grass from the ground.

 

“You still in treatment, then?” he asks.

 

“Yeah, got a couple weeks yet ‘fore my ninety day sentence is up.”

 

“How’s it...you know, how’s it goin’?”

 

“It’s bullshit,” Merle says. “But I’m doin’ it. Goin’ all in on it. Even goin’ to my weekly appointments with the on-site psychologist. Can you believe that? They got me seein’ a shrink like a goddamn pussy. Least she’s hot.”

 

“I see a therapist,” Daryl says flatly.

 

A pause.

 

“Oh.” Merle clears his throat. “Well...is she hot?”

 

“Merle.”

 

“Right, sorry. You only got eyes for one, I forgot.” Daryl can almost see Merle on the other end fidgeting nervously the way that must be genetic as he asks, “How’s she doin’, anyways?”

 

“She’s alright. Been doin’ pretty good lately, the two of us.”

 

“That’s what I like to hear. And you? How’s the leg?”

 

“Oh, you know. There was some complications so they had to take it off.” Daryl let’s Merle sit in his own uncomfortable silence before laughing and saying, “I’m kidding, man, it’s okay. I mean, it’s still real fucked up, but it’s gettin’ better. Can’t go without the crutches just yet, but I’m gettin’ there.”

 

“Good. That’s real good. And everything else healed up okay?”

 

“Rest of me’s right as rain, and I don’t feel up to listening to no guilt fest on your end, so let’s just move right on past all’a that, yeah?”

 

“Yeah, sure, we can do that,” Merle says, sounding grateful. “Can I ask...am I allowed to know about the lil’ ones? How they are? What they’re up to?”

 

“Yeah, well, lucky for you they’re my favorite subject to talk about so I s’pose I can tell you a bit.” He brushes grass off his pants while he thinks of what to share. “They’re giants compared to how they was last time you saw ‘em. Rollin’ over this way and that all the time. Real funny. Huge personalities. JJ babbles so much sometimes I’m surprised he don’t run right outta breath, meanwhile Jojo can side-eye you straight to hell. Ain’t never met someone with a more expressive face.”

 

“I take it most of those expressions are judgemental?”

 

“Oh hell yeah. Unless you’re the dog she’s got lots of opinions about everything you do, and she ain’t easy to impress.”

 

“They sleepin’ through the night and everything?” 

 

“For the most part, yeah. Up here and there, sometimes. They’re real good babies, truth be told. Think Josie might got a tooth comin’ in so she’s a lil’ bit more of a handful than usual, but poor thing’s hurtin’ so I can’t blame her.”

 

“Nothin’ Super Dad over here can’t handle, right?”

 

“Pfft, yeah, I guess.”

 

“Yeah, you got them taken care of. Um...Hey man, listen, I um…” Merle trails off.

 

“You what?” Daryl asks, frowning.

 

“Just...I was thinkin’, and like, I can’t go the rest of my life without seein’ those kids.”

 

“Merle…”

 

“I know, man, I know you had your hard lines and I crossed ‘em big time, I get it, but I’m tryin’, okay? Tryn’ harder than I’ve ever tried at anythin’ in my life, and if me and you can’t never patch things up , or if your girl can’t look me in the eye no more, I get it, Daryl,  _ I get it _ , but just...Shit, baby brother, don’t take those kids from me.”

 

“Goddamnit, Merle, you’re seriously gonna call me in the middle of the day, after I ain’t heard from you in months, and pull this shit on me?” Daryl asks, pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

“I wanted to make sure I was really in a better state of mind ‘fore I talked to you. And listen, it don’t gotta be right away. I know I gotta prove to you that I’m serious about this shit, but you said you’d think about it, remember? You said you might give me a second chance.”

 

Daryl, unaccustomed to hearing such raw vulnerability in his brother’s voice, blows out a breath and stares out in front of him into the middle distance, his mind traffic jammed on how to respond.

 

“I wanna say yes,” he says quietly, figuring honesty has been the best policy lately, so maybe he should keep up the trend. “It ain’t that simple, though, not to mention it ain’t only my decision.”

 

“Yeah, I know, you gotta run it by your girl, I get it.”

 

“These are my kids we’re talking about, Merle. Think about how we grew up. Think about the shit we seen. I don’t want them ever havin’ to go through that or see it. It ain’t a matter of keepin’ them from you, or not havin’ no sympathy for what you’ve been havin’ to do, but it’s up to me to protect them. That’s my job, and there ain’t nothin’ more important than that.”

 

“I get it.” He sounds utterly crestfallen, and Daryl sighs.

 

“I ain’t sayin’ no, okay? I’m just sayin’ that it ain’t gonna be as easy as an apology. You don’t get to walk in and out of their lives. You’re either in it or you ain’t, and if you wanna be in it then you gotta show me that you mean it.” 

 

“How?”

 

“I dunno yet. Start by finishin’ up your time in treatment then we can figure it out from there.”

 

“Okay. Yeah, okay, that’s fair.”

 

Across the way, Daryl can see Axel walking back into the garage, and a customer drives into the lot. He says,

 

“Hey, I gotta get back to work. I’ll talk to Carol, alright? And I’ll think about it. You call me when you’re out, and we’ll talk more then.”

 

“I will,” Merle promises.

 

“In the meantime, keep seein’ that shrink. God knows if anyone needs it, it’s you.”

 

Merle laughs and says, “Hey, with knockers like that I’ll go to that woman’s office whenever she wants me there.”

 

“Whatever keeps you goin’, I guess,” Daryl says, rolling his eyes to himself.

 

“I’ll do it, baby brother, don’t you worry. You go on to work now, go bring home the bacon to that pretty little family of yours, and I’ll be talkin’ with you soon.”

 

“Mhm. Talk to you later.”

 

“Love you, baby brother.”

 

“Yeah. You too.”

 

“Love that girl of yours, too. Tell her I’m sorry, will you? For whatever good it’ll do.”

 

“I will.”

 

“And give those kids a kiss from me, okay? At least let ‘em know I’m thinkin’ about ‘em, even if they don’t understand.”

 

“I will,” Daryl promises, and he means it. “Bye, Merle.”

 

“Later on, baby brother,” Merle says, and the line goes dead.

 

Daryl takes a moment to collect himself, his head hurting in the way it only ever does when he’s dealing with Merle.

 

He doesn’t have time to dwell. He uses his crutches to struggle to his feet, and goes back to work, trying to shove the thought of his older brother sitting around in rehab out of his mind.

 

—-

 

“How do I look?” Carol asks, emerging from the bathroom. She’s wearing tight jeans and a crop top sweater, with her hair straightened (not an easy feat), and her makeup done. Daryl smiles at her from his spot on the floor, his back against the couch, where he’s keeping an eye on the twins as they hold their own bottles to their mouths.

 

“Real pretty,” he tells her. “What time is it? How long before Michonne comes to pick you up?”

 

“Any minute,” she says, putting in earrings as final touch. Daryl’s been nagging her for days to go have a girls’ night with her friends, assuring her that it’ll be good for her, and he’s delighted that she’s finally relented. “You sure you and the guys will be okay on babysitting duty?” she asks.

 

“I think it’s called parenting when it’s your own kids,” Daryl says. “We’ll be fine. You go spend time with your friends and do awful extrovert stuff, and I’ll stay here with mine and play peek-a-boo for the next few hours.”

 

“I know that’s Glenn’s favorite game, but try and find something to do with the twins, too,” Carol deadpans, and Daryl snorts.

 

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, craning his neck up when she walks over and dips down to kiss him. A knock comes at the door when she straightens up. Without waiting for a response, Glenn and Rick push the door open a crack and stick their heads inside.

 

“Yo, we’re supposed to tell Carol to get her ass outside, and we’re here to hang out with some twins,” Glenn says. “This the right place?”

 

“Yep, come in. Let me just say goodbye to my babies real fast,” Carol says to them. She squats down and brushes a hand over Josie’s head, and gives Jesse’s hand a squeeze. “Hey little ones, momma’s not gonna be here to put you down for bed tonight, but I’ll come in and say goodnight when I get home, even if you’re not awake to hear it, I promise.” She kisses them both, plus one more for Daryl, before getting to her feet and walking past Glenn and Rick, who have come all the way inside.

 

“Have fun, sweetheart,” Daryl says to her over his shoulder. 

 

“You too,” she says. “I’ll be home in a few hours. Love you.”

 

“Love you, too, now get,” Daryl says. She sticks her tongue out at him before disappearing outside, the door clicking shut behind her. Daryl turns towards Glenn and Rick.

 

“So what’s on the agenda tonight?” Rick asks, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

 

Daryl shrugs.

 

“C’mere.” He motions his friends to the floor. “How good are you two at crawling?”

 

—-

 

“So he basically begged you to let him back into your life?” Glenn asks while trying to put a squirming Jose into her pajamas.

 

“Yeah, he said he couldn’t live the rest of his life without seeing the kids, which like, I get, but it also ain’t that simple. Glenn, don’t bother with the pajama bottoms, she’ll scream bloody murder for ages if you force her to wear them.”

 

“Still hates pants, huh?” asks Rick.

 

“Mhm. I pro’ly should be more concerned that my daughter insists on going pantless everywhere, but whatever.”

 

“I respect your right as a female to dress however you choose,” Glenn informs Josie as he pulls her arms through her shirt that has a cartoon snail wearing a sleeping cap on the front of it. 

 

“Me too, but sometimes it’s cold out and her legs’ll get cold,” Daryl complains. He’s sitting on the floor with his shit leg outstretched, changing Jesse on the playmat because it’s easier than trying to keep his balance standing up. 

 

(He wouldn’t take Rick up on his offer to get Jesse ready for bed, because he felt like he had to take care of at least one of the twins himself.)

 

“Pass me a diaper and some wipes, would you?” he asks Rick then, having not grabbed them on purpose to give Rick something to do.

 

“Here,” Rick says, handing over the requested items while Daryl keeps a hand on Jesse’s belly to keep him from rolling away. 

 

“Thanks,” he says. Jesse babbles, looking up at Rick, and Daryl adds, “JJ says thanks, too.”

 

“Do you think you’d ever let Merle see the kids again?” Glenn asks, lifting Josie up and holding her against his left shoulder, patting her on the back.

 

“Ugh,” Daryl says, unsnapping Jesse’s onesie and undoing his diaper. “I wanna, but I dunno—ah, goddamnit, JJ.” Daryl quickly covers Jesse back up with the diaper, but too little too late, as Jesse’s already pissed all over his dad. “See what my dumbass brother does to me?” Daryl says. “He distracts me. That’s the first time JJ’s got me in weeks. Right on the shirt, too.”

 

Rolling his eyes at his friends’ snickers, he cautiously finishes changing his son. When he’s done he unbuttons his flannel and slips it off without thinking, tossing it over by the door to take to the laundry later.

 

“Here, take this demon for a second, I need to find his pajamas,” he says, scooping up Jesse by the armpits and holding him out to Rick. Rick gives him a strange, tight smile, and takes the baby without comment.

 

“I can grab them if you need me to,” Glenn says, watching as Daryl scoots himself over to the dresser, his shit leg still out in front of him. Daryl looks over at him and frowns when he sees Glenn’s face go from a sort of sad grimace, to the same forced smile Rick had given him.

 

“It’s near the bottom, I can reach,” Daryl says. “What’s with you guys?” he asks, turning to open the dresser drawer second to the bottom. As he’s rummaging around in the drawer he can feel his friends’ eyes on his back, and suddenly he puts two and two together.

 

His first instinct is to cover up, but he’s got nothing to cover up with. His second instinct is to run, but he can’t even get up without a series of ungraceful maneuvers involving crutches and various pieces of furniture; he’s not going anywhere quickly while he’s stuck on the floor.

 

His third instinct is resignation. He sighs, worrying his lower lip between his teeth as he pulls out a sleeper suit for Jesse. Without turning around, he says,

 

“You already knew he did that kind of stuff to me, it ain’t like it should be a surprise.”

 

He closes the drawer then and shuffles around on the floor so that his back, and all its nasty, violent secrets, is hidden, pressed against the dresser. He holds his arms out at Rick, who has the courtesy not to give anymore fake smiles as he hands over the baby. Rick takes a seat on the floor across from them, wrapping his arms around his knees. Glenn and Josie join them as well.

 

“I think it’s just being able to  _ see _ it, you know?” Glenn says finally, adjusting Josie in his arms. “Like, you telling us about it is one thing, but…” He trails off.

 

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Rick says. “It’s not a big deal, it just caught us off guard is all.”

 

Daryl, still chewing on his lip, knits his brow together while he gets Jesse dressed for bed.

 

“See, this is the kind of shit that makes it hard with Merle,” he says finally.

 

“How do you mean?” Rick asks gently, and Daryl hazards a glance at him before turning back to his son and shrugging.

 

“That’s the kind of childhood we had,” he says. “He ain’t never showed me, but I’m sure he looks the same. And like, on the one hand, I wanna let him into my life—see if it don’t help clean up some of the bullsht baggage our daddy left behind. But on the other hand, I got these two kids that I don’t want to ever see anythin’ even close to the shit I seen, and it ain’t that I think Merle would hurt ‘em on purpose, but look what happened to me.” He gestures at his shit leg. “Or even just seein’ their uncle high is more than I’m okay with. And I don’t wanna hafta explain to them that Uncle Merle’s not around ‘cause he fell off the wagon again and is off smokin’ meth.”

 

“That’s totally understandable,” Glenn says, and Rick nods in agreement. Daryl plays absently with Jesse’s feet and smiles a little when the baby giggles.

 

“I coulda been him, though,” Daryl says quietly, searching his son’s face. “Maybe not the drugs, but without Carol or the kids? Without y’all? I’d have no drive to do nothin’ with my life.” He sighs heavily, picking up Jesse. He motions for Josie, and Glenn places her in his free arm. Daryl kisses the tops of his kids’ heads and says, almost to himself, “They saved me. Maybe they could save him.”

 

“Maybe,” Glenn says.

 

“Think it’s another one of those ‘go with your gut’ scenarios,” Rick says.

 

“Been a lot of those lately,” Daryl says.

 

“Bababa bababa baba ba,” says Jesse, reaching out and touching Daryl’s face, and Daryl nods sagely, kissing Jesse’s fingers.

 

“Thank you,” he tells him. He takes a deep breath, shaking his head. “I’ve spent too much goddamn time on it today, I’m gonna keep goin’ in circles if I spend anymore. Here, take them for a sec while I go find a clean shirt.”

 

Rick and Glenn each take a baby, and wait patiently for Daryl to push himself up into a standing position, knowing better than to offer assistance.

 

“Be right back,” Daryl says, finding his balance with his crutches. “Pick out a bedtime story to read ‘em while I’m gone.”

 

Daryl limps his way to his bedroom with the sound of Rick and Glenn arguing over  _ The Lorax _ versus  _ Goodnight Moon _ . He smiles to himself, thankful for the place his path has taken him thus far, and distantly he wonders if it’s too late for Mere to make a u-turn and join him down this same road.

 

—-

 

Daryl trades Glenn and Rick for Carol a couple hours later. He says goodbye to his friends with a loaded thank you, and welcomes back Carol with a kiss to the mouth and a, “How was your night?” 

 

“Really good. Let me go say goodnight to the kids and I’ll tell you all about it,” Carol says. Her hair has started to curl up at the ends and her makeup is smudged in places, like she may have been dancing and sweating, and she looks disheveled in a way that’s more sexy than messy.

 

“Alright, I’ll bring Henry in for bed while you do that,” he says, and kisses her once more, because she’s beautiful and he can.

 

Daryl wrangles Henry from outside and gets him situated and comfortable in his kennel with a bedtime snack of kibble packed into a kong with peanut butter. He scratches him behind the ears and locks his cage, before limping into the living room where Carol is already stretched out on the couch lazily, her feet propped up on the arm of the couch, and her head flat on the cushion.

 

“I can move over, I just kinda flopped down,” she says when she sees him.

 

“‘S’okay, my leg’s stiff anyways, I’ll stand for a bit. Did a lot of practice crawling tonight.”

 

“Yeah? Any luck?”

 

“I got about three inches, JJ’s balance is better, Jojo’s tooth was botherin’ her so she wasn’t havin’ it, and Rick and Glenn was the best at it out of all of us.”

 

“Mm, sounds like a wild night,” Carol says, grinning.

 

“It got pretty crazy,” Daryl says, leaning against one of his crutches and grinning right back. “How ‘bout your night?” 

 

“It was really fun. Me, Michonne, and Maggie met up with Tara, Rosita, and Lori at Rosie’s Diner for supper, and one of my old customers came and asked for my number. I told him I had two kids and a wonderful boyfriend back at home, and he said that he only needed me for the night, and I asked him if he wanted me to send him a link to some fleshlights since he wanted something mindless to stick his dick into, and he called me a bitch and left.”

 

“Mm, sounds like a charming guy.”

 

“Oh yeah, not gonna lie, you had real competition there for a while,” she says, laughing when Daryl rolls his eyes. “Anywho, we went to that bar right outside of town that lets you in if you’re nineteen years or older on drag show nights, and at one point, Rosita laid down on the stage during a performance and had one of the drag kings take a dollar from her cleavage with their teeth, so that was entertaining. Oh! And Jesus was there. As a performer.”

 

“That tracks. Was he any good?”

 

“Amazing, actually. He’s very agile. Way better at wearing heels than I am, too. Afterwards, he came up and hung out with us and told me I should try drag some time. I pulled the, ‘I’m a mom, I can’t spend my nights going to clubs all the time to do drag,’ even though the real reason is because I have the grace of a fish trying to flop it’s way down a deck back into the ocean. Michonne was nice enough to remind everyone of the ankle incident.” 

 

“Very kind of her,” Daryl says, laughing. “What else happened?”

 

“Mostly we just danced and chatted. And like, I played that card in jest, but I did feel like such a mom. They had to convince me to go get milkshakes with them after the club ‘cause I was like, ‘but i need to tell my kids goodnight.’”

 

“I woulda done the same thing.”

 

“Please, you wouldn’t have been out in the first place,” Carol laughs.

 

“‘Kay, that’s true,” Daryl agrees. He regards her then, the way her body is loose and relaxed. “You seem happy,” he says.

 

“I am,” she says without hesitation. “I had fun. And at supper, Tara gave me some info on the community college in the town twenty miles west of here that has a program for mothers. I guess they work with your schedule, and there are scholarships available, and I thought I might browse their website, and if it seems worth it, then go check it out.”

 

“Fuck yeah, go for it,” Daryl says sincerely, and she beams at him.

 

“Thank you,” she says.

 

“I want this for you, baby, whatever you need from me, just tell me.”

 

“You’re so good,” she says. “You’ve been helping me so much lately. With my depression, I mean.”

 

“Have I?”

 

“Absolutely. Encouraging me to get out of the house when you know I need it. Knowing when I can’t and not forcing me. Never blaming me for my bad days. You make me feel normal instead of guilty. And you’re getting me to do stuff I never used to do, like thinking about what careers might make me happy, or what I want my future to look like. Or hell, just making sure I went out and had a girls’ night tonight with my friends instead of bogging myself down with responsibilities is huge. You’re so good for me, Daryl, you’ve got no idea.” 

 

Daryl watches the way her eyes light up when she talks about her potential career, and his heart tugs when she’s able to admit she needed time with her friends. He’s overwhelmed with the words, ‘you’re so good for me,’ and his earlier conversation about how easy it would have been for him to go down the path of Merle without her influence comes rushing back to him. And he really does mean to say something to the effect of, “I’m glad you’re having better days lately,” or, “I’ll always be here to help,” but that’s not what comes out of his mouth.

 

Somewhere along the way, some wires get crossed, and what comes out of his mouth is this:

 

“Hey, will you marry me?”

 

Carol stares blankly at him for a moment.

 

“What?” she asks.

 

Oh, Daryl thinks, that’s not what he was supposed to say. He waits for the crushing panic to overtake him, but nothing comes. The question, while poorly timed, somehow doesn’t feel wrong. 

 

Maybe he was supposed to say it after all.

 

“I said will you—actually, wait, hold on a second,” Daryl says. He adjusts his crutches under his armpits and heads towards their bedroom.

 

“What, no, wait,” Carol stammers. “You can’t just say that and leave.”

 

“Hold on,” Daryl repeats, not turning around.

 

He goes to the bedroom and heads straight to the closest, where, shoved in the back, he’s got his lock box. He balances himself on his right leg and right crutch, and uses his left crutch to push the lock box towards him. He leans down just far enough to grab it, and he hops over to the bed and plops it and himself down onto the mattress.

 

He opens the box, which has five things in it total: The picture of his mother, the letter Carol wrote him for Valentine’s Day last year, an ultrasound of the twins, the marble he found in the basement, and the small ring box Merle gave him several months ago. Daryl snatches up the box, shoves it in his pocket, locks his safe, and then pushes himself up. He goes back into the living room, where Carol is now sitting on the very edge of the couch, her hands steepled together and held against her mouth. She looks up at him instantly when he comes back into the room.

 

“Daryl, what—” she starts.

 

“Shush, hold on, me first,” Daryl says, cutting her off. He takes a seat beside her on the couch, leaning his crutches against the coffee table, and he reaches into his pocket.

 

Carol’s eyes grow as wide as saucers at the sight of the ring box. Her gaze flits between it, Daryl, it, and back again. Daryl takes a deep breath and looks at her.

 

“‘Kay, so I didn’t plan to do this right now at all,” he starts, fiddling with the box in his hands, but not allowing himself to break his gaze. “LIke, seriously, the words kinda just came out, but I think maybe they came out for a reason, like my gut wanted me to say ‘em and knew I’d overthink it if I let it so it didn’t give me a chance to.

 

“Since I didn’t plan this I don’t got nothin’ real fancy to say, and I can’t put enough weight on my leg to get down on any knees, but I guess it just comes down to the fact that I love you somethin’ awful, and wanna keep lovin’ you and havin’ you with me for, well, forever, I guess. And forever’s a long time, I know that, but spending that time with you sounds real nice, and I’m hopin’ it sounds nice to you, too.”

 

He opens up the box to reveal his mother’s old wedding ring. Carol, who has not made a peep through this entire speech, makes a small noise of surprise at the sight of the ring, and Daryl can’t blame her, because it’s probably worth more than anything they own.

 

“Um.” Daryl clears his throat. “I guess that’s all I got, ‘cept to ask, will you marry me?” 

 

Carol, who seems dumbstruck, looks up from the ring to meet his eye and, after a moment, slowly nods. 

 

Daryl’s heart skips a beat.

 

“Yeah?” he asks.

 

“Yes,” Carol whispers, like she can’t quite remember how to speak.

 

Daryl swallows hard. Gingerly, he removes the ring from the box and holds it out to Carol. She holds up her left hand, which is trembling slightly, and Daryls slides the ring onto her finger. It’s a near perfect fit, a half-size too big at the most. Carol keeps her hand in the air, staring at it.

 

“Where’d this come from?” she asks, still whispering.

 

“It was my mom’s,” Daryl says. Her eyes snap back up at him.

 

“It’s beautiful,” she says.

 

“Yeah,” Daryl agrees.

 

They look each other in the eye for a long moment, before simultaneously bursting into laughter.

 

“Oh my god,” Carol says, wrapping her arms around his neck in a tight embrace. He puts a hand against her back and hugs her close. She kisses him then, and again. and again for good measure, before pulling back just far enough to see his face. She isn’t crying, but her eyes are definitely glistening when she says softly, “I did  _ not _ expect you to pull that out of nowhere tonight.”

 

“Me either,” Daryl says, and Carol laughs.

 

“This isn’t because of fleshlight guy, is it?” she asks. “Because I was just kidding, I never actually wanted his number.” 

 

“Oh, in that case I’ll just take that ring back, then,” Daryl deadpans and Carol shakes her head with a smile.

 

“Not a chance.” Over his shoulder, she examines her ring again. “You just proposed to me,” she says incredulously.

 

“I did.”

 

“And I said yes.”

 

“You did.”

 

And just like that, like a train pulling into the station ten minutes late, all of the anxiety he should have felt earlier hits him all at once right now.

 

“Holy shit,” he says, the magnitude of what just happened washing over him in a giant wave. “I just asked you to marry me. I didn’t plan that at all. At  _ all _ . That was insane. What if you had said no? That could have ruined absolutely everything. What a stupid thing to do, I shoulda at least prepared somethin’ proper to say instead of just—mmph.” 

 

Carol cuts him off with another kiss.

 

“I said yes, remember?” she says against his mouth. “So calm down.”

 

“But—”

 

“Shh, no, shut up,” she says fondly. “In fact, you should probably take me to bed, right now, immediately.” 

 

Daryl reins in his racing, intrusive thoughts and puts his forehead against hers. He searches for the right thing to say, but comes up empty.

 

“I love you,” he decides on lamely, but Carol cups his face and kisses him like she doesn’t find it lame at all. He melts into her, coming around to the ‘taking her to bed’ idea. 

 

Conversation will have to happen, he knows, but it doesn’t have to be tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my update schedule is alllll outta wack, and i'm not gonna be able to fix it for a couple more weeks bc things are in flux. so right now i'm gonna say my update schedule is "????" at least one chapter a week, though, i just don't know what day. it'll go back to normal once i'm done traveling around the country.
> 
> anyway, i know this was the chapter you guys were waiting for. you're welcome. i, too, was excited about team groupchat's first d&d campaign. i wonder how that will play out. 
> 
> oh, and there was that other thing, too, ig.
> 
> welp, i'm sure everything will continue to be peachy and fuzzy, and there will be no drama or angst at all. (hi sara)
> 
> see you ????, friends!
> 
> <3,  
> -diz


	27. The (Bechdel) Test

_ March 25th _

_ Saturday _

 

(6:09a) -guys-

 

(6:09a) -its early but r u awake?-

 

(6:09a) -cuz i rly need yall 2 b awake-

 

(6:13a) -wake up-

 

(6:41a) -jojo needed changed n now is in my bedroom chillin on my chest while jj n carol slp n i cant fully appreciate the fact tht shes letting me cuddle her 4 once bc i need to fukin tlk 2 u guys abt smthn-

 

(6:42a) -adjkalaldja-

 

(6:42a) -ik its saturday but this is important-

 

(6:43a) -wake-

 

(6:43a) -up-

 

(6:44a) ~dude my text alert keeps going off, what the hell?~

 

(6:45a) -gud ur awake now we just need rick-

 

(6:46a) ~for what? why did you wake me up before ten on a weekend?~

 

(6:47a) -i promise its important but i need rick here 2-

 

(6:51a) >I'm here, what do you want?<

 

(6:56a) ~daryl?~

 

(6:59a) -sry jojo was bein cute i was distracted-

 

(6:59a) -but ok gud ricks here now-

 

(7:00a) >Yes, even though I'd rather still be asleep, so do you wanna tell us what's so urgent?<

 

(7:01a) -yeah so-

 

(7:01a) -im engaged-

 

(7:02a) >........<

 

(7:02a) ~ummm, engaged to do what?~

 

(7:03a) -engaged 2 b married-

 

(7:03a) -i asked carol 2 marry me last nite-

 

(7:03a) -n she said yes-

 

(7:03a) -so ig im getting married-

 

(7:03a) -k thts all u can go back 2 slp now if u wnt-

 

(7:04a) >Ummmm, back the fuck up?<

 

(7:04a) ~excuse the fuck out of me, you did /what/ last night?~

 

(7:05a) -i alrdy told u i asked carol 2 marry me-

 

(7:06a) ~??????~

 

(7:06a) >Yeah, you repeating it isn't making it any clearer, we're gonna need a play-by-play here, brother.<

 

(7:07a) -after u guys left i was tlking 2 carol n she was all happy n pretty n tlking abt how shes glad 2 have me n it just kinda came out-

 

(7:08a) ~"it" being a marriage proposal?~

 

(7:09a) -ya-

 

(7:10a) >I don't think I'm processing this. You've been freaking out about how, or even /if/, you were going to propose to her, and now all of a sudden you're engaged?<

 

(7:10a) >What did you even say to her?<

 

(7:11a) -i think my exact words were hey will u marry me-

 

(7:12a) ~please tell me you did not phrase it like that, holy god.~

 

(7:13a) -i did but then i got the ring n did it better-

 

(7:13a) -idk i did it kinda on accident so i didnt have nthn prepared 2 say-

 

(7:14a) >But she said yes?<

 

(7:15a) -she did-

 

(7:16a) ~so you're genuinely engaged to carol now?~

 

(7:17a) -i am-

 

(7:18a) ~in that case…~

 

(7:18a) ~!!!!!!!~

 

(7:18a) >Wtf, that's insane, congratulations!<

 

(7:19a) -thnx-

 

(7:20a) ~are you freaking out?~

 

(7:21a) -not yet but tbf i havent had time 2 think abt it much-

 

(7:21a) -theres the usual concern tht shes gonna wake up n say it was a mistake but shes aslp rite next 2 me n i can c the ring on her finger so i at least kno it rly happened-

 

(7:21a) -i rly proposed u guys like i rly did tht-

 

(7:22a) ~does this mean there's gonna be a wedding?~

 

(7:23a) -ajdjskalahdffa?-

 

(7:23a) -idk i have no idea wut she wnts weve nvr tlked abt weddings xcept on how 2 ruin one-

 

(7:24a) >Do you want an actual wedding?<

 

(7:25a) -itd b a p small wedding we only kno n care abt like 10 ppl max-

 

(7:25a) -idfk thinking abt saying personal stuff out loud makes me anxious but if she wnted to go all out id do it 4 her-

 

(7:25a) -how we do it doesnt matter i just wna b her husband by the end of it-

 

(7:25a) -askakhajhld husband-

 

(7:25a) -i'll b her husband-

 

(7:25a) -she'll b my wife-

 

(7:25a) -thts almost as freaky as the first time a dr ever referred 2 me as "the father"-

 

(7:26a) >You adjusted to that roll pretty damn well, I'd say.<

 

(7:27a) -ya i luv bein a dad-

 

(7:28a) ~my guess is you'll love being a husband, too.~

 

(7:28a) ~i can't believe you're getting marginalized.~

 

(7:28a) ~no wait, i meant martyred.~

 

(7:28a) ~marzipan.~

 

(7:28a) ~i can't believe you're getting hitched.~

 

(7:28a) ~anyway.~

 

(7:29a) -ur an idiot-

 

(7:29a) -but also me neither-

 

(7:29a) -i literally nvr thot id get married-

 

(7:30a) >You mean like when you were growing up?<

 

(7:31a) -mhm-

 

(7:31a) -i figured id b alone basically 4evr n now i have 2 kids id die 4 n am engaged 2 the most perfect woman on the planet like how tf did i get here?-

 

(7:32a) >Life's a fucking trip.<

 

(7:32a) ~that's for damn sure.~

 

(7:33a) -understatement-

 

(7:34a) -hey jj is awake n im sure carol will wake up here in a sec so imma go 4 a bit-

 

(7:34a) -sry 4 waking u up so early-

 

(7:35a) >It was important.<

 

(7:35a) ~i would have been mad if you /hadn't/ woken us up.~

 

(7:35a) >Congrats again, brother. Keep us updated on everything. We'll have to go out and celebrate before Glenn and I head back to school tomorrow.<

 

(7:36a) -4 sure-

 

(7:36a) -ttys-

 

(7:37a) ~go take care of your kids and your <3 <3 <3 fiancee <3 <3 <3~

 

(7:38a) -jfc-

 

(7:38a) -stfu-

 

(7:38a) -but also like-

 

(7:38a) -...fiancee...-

 

(7:38a) -whoa-

 

—-

 

"'Kay baby girl, I need your help wakin' momma up, 'cause I gotta go get your brother and it's a pain in the ass tryna carry you both at the same time," Daryl says to Josie, who's sucking on the last bit of milk in her bottle. He's had to get creative carting the kids around with crutches. He tends to go for wearing baby wraps, but the twins have gotten big enough that he has to have one in front and one in back to do it, and that just seems like a lot of work to go from one room to another.

 

"Momma's not here," Carol mumbles into her pillow, not lifting her head as she lays flat on her belly. Daryl grins.

 

"I think momma's bein' a liar, Jojo, you better get over there and tell her off," Daryl says. He takes the bottle Josie's more gnawing on than eating from, and plops her down on Carol's back, holding her sides so she doesn't tip over. Josie looks confused. She leans forward and begins hitting Carol's shoulders with tiny baby smacks, investigating her new surroundings.

 

"You guys are jerks," Carol mumbles. Daryl lifts Josie up when Carol turns over onto her back. She squints at the two of them in the natural light coming in from the window and holds out her hands saying, "Gimme my baby."

 

"You take this one while I go deal with her brother before he starts doin' that thing where he's convinced we've abandoned him 'cause we ain't paid attention to him for two minutes," Daryl says, handing Josie over. Through the baby monitor, Jesse is talking quietly to himself, but history has proven that he won't be content for much longer.

 

"Good morning, sweet thing," Carol says to Josie, kissing her chubby cheek, making the perpetually grumpy baby giggle in spite of herself. To Daryl, Carol asks, "Do you want me to get him so you don't have to mess with the baby wrap?"

 

"Nah, I got him," Daryl says, and Carol gives him a knowing smile that he doesn't acknowledge. He loves being the first one both of the kids see when they wake up, but Jesse is especially delightful, because he's like a dog when their owner comes home from work. He treats every morning like it's the first one he's ever had, as though he's surprised and absolutely elated to see them again. Daryl doesn't care if he's being transparent; Carol got to get him up yesterday, it's his turn.

 

Daryl gets his crutches and heads towards the nursery. Every day he puts a little more weight on his leg, hoping that soon his physical therapist will promote him to a cane, or, preferably, nothing at all.

 

Once in the nursery, Daryl hobbles over to Jesse's crib and peers over the side. Jesse is on his back talking animatedly to his farm animal mobile when he notices Daryl. Immediately his face breaks out into a huge grin, and his babbling gets ten times faster as he kicks his legs in excitement.

 

"Mornin' to you, too, lil' one," Daryl says, smiling wide back. "You wanna go hang with your momma and sissy while I fix you some breakfast?"

 

Daryl gets Jesse out of the crib and changes and dresses him, listening intently as Jesse details all the dreams he had last night, throwing in an occasional, "Oh yeah?" so that the baby knows he's paying attention.

 

Taking more time than he would like, but at least still on his own, Daryl eventually gets the baby and himself settled back into bed with their girls. He has a bottle for Jesse, who takes it eagerly, and once his bottle's in his mouth he stops talking for the first time since he woke up.

 

"What's he gonna be like when he can say real words?" Daryl asks, brushing some of Jesse's light brown hair off his forehead.

 

"I don't want to think about it," Carol says, yawning. Josie is balanced on her lap, playing very seriously with a ring of colored, plastic keys. "She always looks like she's a detective on a crime show trying to solve a mystery," Carol says, watching Josie. "What's the clue, girlie? Did the perp leave any fingerprints?"

 

Josie glances at Carol with what Daryl would swear was exasperation, before shoving the keys in her mouth for further experimentation.

 

"She doesn't think I'm funny," Carol says solemnly, booping their daughter on the nose. Josie scrunches her whole face and both Daryl and Carol laugh.

 

"She's funny, though. Don't think she means to be," Daryl says.

 

"I think she'll be like you and have a good sense of humor, but we’ll have to coax it out of her," Carol says, wiping a bit of drool off of Josie's cheek with her thumb. She pauses, hand still in the air, and looks at the ring on her finger from last night. Daryl watches her admire it, waiting for her to say something.

 

"It's still there," he says when she doesn't. She hums, turning to give Daryl a lazy smile. She drops her hand to the side and takes hold of his with her right one.

 

"Still there," she echoes. "That's something, isn't it?"

 

"Definitely somethin', yeah," Daryl agrees. He swallows. "How, uh, how're you feelin' about it?"

 

"You mean have I completely changed my mind and am regretting saying yes to you, realizing I made the worst mistake of my life?" she asks, smirking. Daryl elbows her in the side.

 

"Somethin' like that," he mutters.

 

"I'm happy," Carol says. "I'm feeling happy about it. Maybe a little shocked still, but no regrets."

 

"Yeah?"

 

"Yes," Carol says firmly. She then squeezes Josie's toe and says, "What do you say, sweet thing? Are you excited that mommy and daddy will no longer be living in sin?" Josie removes the toy keys from her mouth and accidentally hits Carol in the face with them.

 

"What about you, lil' dude? You want your mom and dad to get married?" Daryl asks Jesse, who's leaning back against Daryl's chest. Jesse looks up at him and babbles some muffled syllables around the nipple of his bottle.

 

"He's saying that the teachings of the Duolingo Owl don't forbid premarital sex, but he's happy for us anyway," Carol says, making Daryl laugh.

 

"What's a Duolingo wedding like, anyways?" he asks.

 

"Instead of prayer you have to go through three lesson modules, and recite your vows in the language of your choice."

 

"I take it we ain't doin' French."

 

"Not if you want me to actually marry you," Carol says, and Daryl cracks up again.

 

"For real, though," he says when he's calmed back down. "Have you ever thought about what you might want? Wedding-wise, I mean?"

 

Carol furrows her brow thoughtfully.

 

"Truth be told, I don't think I ever really thought I'd get married so I never bothered to think about what I'd want for a wedding. You?"

 

"Same," he says. "Never even crossed my mind 'til you came along. But if there's somethin' you want, you tell me and I'll make it happen."

 

"What if I want to be one of those girls from  _ Say Yes to the Dress _ and get a fancy dress that costs $10,000?"

 

"I'll make it happen," Daryl says. "We just might hafta postpone the wedding 'til I can figure out some sort of credit card scheme."

 

"Mm, I don't feel like getting married in jail. Let's nix the $10,000 dress idea."

 

"Pro'ly for the best. You know you could wear a white trash bag and I'd still think you was the prettiest thing ever, anyways," Daryl says, and Carol rolls her eyes fondly.

 

"I continue to be baffled at how anyone could have ever thought you were a bad boy when you say shit like that and hold full-length conversations with babies who can't actually talk back."

 

"Them books and shit say it's important to talk to them so they learn language and stuff," Daryl says defensively.

 

"I'm not criticizing, darling, I'm just pointing out that anyone who saw you as dangerous and mysterious should hear some of the things you say." She adjusts her pillow under her head to prop herself up a little more, and adds, "I kinda like the idea of doing  _ something _ . Nothing extravagant, and only for the few people we actually care about, but something a little more intimate than a courthouse."

 

"We can do that."

 

"No idea when or where. And I can't imagine you wanting to say vows in front of everyone."

 

"If I can pass an oral French test I can say vows to my soon-to-be wife."

 

Carol clicks her tongue a few times.

 

"Wife," she says. "That's quite a word, huh?"

 

"A bad one?" Daryl asks tentatively. She gives him a reassuring peck on the cheek.

 

"Not a bad one, just a big one. But one I'd like to have."

 

“Cool,” Daryl says lamely. Carol laughs.

 

“Very cool,” she agrees. She leans her head on Daryl’s shoulder, holding Josie around the waist. Jesse’s back to babbling even though his mouth is full. She shakes her head. “Shit sure changes fast, doesn’t it?” she says. “You blink and suddenly life happens.”

 

“It does,” Daryl says. “And it sure as hell is happenin’ way different than I ever thought it would. First I thought I’d be alone forever, and then you came along. Then you got pregnant, and I could barely wrap my head around one baby, so instead we got two. And I been spendin’ months thinkin’ about how I’d propose to you, or if you’d even want me to, and instead I blurt it out on a random Friday night like I was askin’ you to let the dog out or some other small favor. Nothin’ ever works the way it’s s’posed to.” 

 

“Mm,” Carol hums. “Makes tryna predict the future seem kinda futile, huh?” 

 

“Guess so. Guess we just gotta ride it out and see where it goes.” 

 

Jesse, letting his bottle fall, leans over then and grabs at Josie. Josie looks at him and grins, letting out a little baby squeal she only ever gives Jesse, and only when he’s not annoying her. She hits him in the head with her toy keys and Jesse flails his arms up and down while sternly telling her off. Carol and Daryl watch this exchange before exchanging a look with each other and cracking up.

 

“Least we got these two to make wherever we go interesting. Good or bad, we got them,” Daryl says.

 

“Yeah,” Carol says softly, turning back to the twins with a look of adoration. “How lucky are we?” 

 

—-

 

_ March 27th _

_ Monday _

 

(5:32p) ~i’ve been back at school for one (1) day and already have ten tons of homework.~

 

(5:32p) ~it’s all about fucking alison bechdel, too.~

 

(5:32p) ~for lgbtqa studies i have to read the entirety of “fun home” by wednesday.~

 

(5:32p) ~and for women in pop culture i have to identify five critically acclaimed movies that pass the bechdel test and five that don’t, and then write a five page essay on the purpose of the test and what it means for feminist ideology in the media.~

 

(5:35p) >Who?<

 

(5:35p) -the wut?-

 

(5:36p) ~alison bechdel. she’s like this cartoonist who wrote this comic strip called…~

 

(5:36p) ~actually i don’t know if i’m allowed to say the word.~

 

(5:36p) ~can you say a slur if it’s in a title or is that like when white people use rap songs as an excuse to say the n-word?~

 

(5:37p) -i mean, my dad once called a cashier at a gas station the n-word rite 2 his face bc they were out of sour patch kids so idk if im the rite person 2 ask-

 

(5:38p) >Maybe it’s like capitalization. If it’s a proper noun you’re allowed to say it.<

 

(5:39p) ~i’m not sure how much of a slur this is, like is it the same as the n-word?~

 

(5:40p) -i literally dnt kno wut ur tlking abt so idk-

 

(5:41p) ~shit, maybe i shouldn’t be comparing slurs, that might make me prejudiced.~

 

(5:41p) ~hold on, i need to text tara.~

 

(5:42p) >I’m not entirely sure what this conversation is about but I’m pretty sure it’s stupid.<

 

(5:43p) -whn is it not-

 

(5:46p) ~okay, tara told me i was an idiot and refused to answer me, so i’m just gonna call the comic strip “slurs to watch out for.”~

 

(5:47p) >Okay, so Alison Bechdel wrote some sort of comic strip that you can’t say and now you have to do a lot of homework about her?<

 

(5:47p) -u nvr explained tht test thing-

 

(5:47p) -or r u not allowed 2 say tht either-

 

(5:48p) ~oh that.~

 

(5:48p) ~it’s a test that looks at how much female representation there is in a movie/tv show/whatever. to pass, the thing has to have two women talk to each other about something that isn’t a man, and some people add that the women have to have names.~

 

(5:48p) ~a lot of movies fail it.~

 

(5:48p) ~the original star wars trilogy fails it.~

 

(5:48p) ~it’s kind of embarrassing.~

 

(5:48p) ~all i’ve learned in college is how to bullshit essays and that society hates women.~

 

(5:48p) ~good thing josie’s a hardass, daryl, she won’t put up with bullshit.~

 

(5:49p) - :/ -

 

(5:49p) -i dnt wnt society 2 h8 jojo-

 

(5:49p) -or like any woman either ig-

 

(5:50p) ~unfortunately we live in a world where sexisim is a societal institution ingrained in us from birth, and the three of us are blind to the magnitude of it due to our places of privilege as men. particularly you two, because you’re white men, and white men are the root of all evil.~

 

(5:51p) >What?<

 

(5:51p) -wut?-

 

(5:52p) ~you know what? never mind. what’s new with you guys?~

 

(5:53p) >Going over the police academy application and being anxious about it because filling out applications is always exhausting and if I don’t get in idk what else to do with my life.<

 

(5:53p) >I might have to become a women and gender studies major.<

 

(5:54p) -plz dnt im changing jojos outfit rn bc it has lil butterflies on it n i dnt wnt her to ingrain sexism-

 

(5:54p) -idek if butterflies will do tht but theyre purple n thts a girl color or w/e-

 

(5:54p) -i cant handle both of u saying big weird words n raise a daughter @ the same time-

 

(5:55p) ~make sure you’re also teaching jesse that it’s okay for him to express his emotions and not conform to stereotypical gender norms so that he doesn’t grow up feeling shame when he experiences any feeling that isn’t rage, and doesn’t view women only as sexual objects.~

 

(5:56p) -aaaaaa-

 

(5:57p) >Okay, Daryl’s kids can’t even crawl yet, let’s cut him some slack.<

 

(5:58p) -theyre gettin close i think tho jj has been doin this thing where instead of tryna crawl he kinda just scoots arnd on his ass-

 

(5:58p) -n he can only go backwards-

 

(5:58p) -he keeps running into things-

 

(5:58p) -luv tht kid but he sure is weird sometimes-

 

(5:59p) >Let me guess, Josie has like, peak form and could be in a textbook demonstrating how babies transition between stages?<

 

(6:00p) -lol ya-

 

(6:00p) -ik she doesnt actually but sometimes she looks @ jj n it seems like shes thinking tht hes a big dummy-

 

(6:00p) -no idea if theyll b bffs whn theyre older or h8 each others guts-

 

(6:01p) ~probably both, that’s how it was with me and my sisters.~

 

(6:02p) >Speaking of, how’s your brother, Daryl? He call you again yet?<

 

(6:03p) -nah i dnt think hes outta rehab yet-

 

(6:03p) -i tlked 2 carol abt wut he said abt wnting 2 c the kids again n the look she gave me cud kill a man-

 

(6:04p) ~that a big no then?~

 

(6:05p) -she said tht she wud need a loooot of proof tht hes not fuking up-

 

(6:05p) -i dnt even think it has much 2 do w/ the twins so much as it has 2 do w/ me. shes still pissed tht i got so hurt-

 

(6:06p) ~not gonna lie, we aren’t exactly thrilled about that either.~

 

(6:07p) -ik-

 

(6:07p) -n i get it n i havent rly 4given him either but like-

 

(6:07p) -...idk he aint nvr tried like this b4 n it was kinda nice havin him in my life there until he went n fuked it up-

 

(6:07p) -carol said she’d b ok w/ me meeting up w/ him whn hes out n giving him pics of the kids n telling him abt the engagement n shit so ig shes not expecting me 2 ice him out completely which is gud-

 

(6:08p) >What about if you guys have a wedding? Do you think she’d let him come?<

 

(6:09p) -o god i have no idea-

 

(6:09p) -thts 2 much 2 think abt rn-

 

(6:10p) ~have you guys talked any more about whether or not you want a real wedding?~

 

(6:11p) -kinda? i think we agree tht we wont do courthouse but other thn tht we dnt kno-

 

(6:12p) ~who would marry you?~

 

(6:13p) -idk? neither of us r religious so ig a judge or smthn-

 

(6:14p) ~hmmmmmm, okay. interesting.~

 

(6:14p) ~here hold on a second, i’ll be back in like five minutes.~

 

(6:15p) -mmmk?-

 

(6:15p) >I don’t trust that, what are you doing?<

 

(6:21p) ~okay, i’m ordained now.~

 

(6:22p) -wut-

 

(6:23p) ~found a website. you just have to put in some information and wait for something to come in the mail and you can legally marry people. so if you’re looking for someone to marry you…~

 

(6:24p) >Is that seriously all you have to do to be able to marry people?<

 

(6:25p) ~yep!~

 

(6:26p) -jfc-

 

(6:27p) ~no pressure or anything, but if you find yourself in a tight spot, hit me up.~

 

(6:27p) ~hey that could solve a conundrum if you were going to have a best man, because now you don’t have to go through the awkward thing of telling Rick you’re picking me over him because I’ll be the one marrying you.~

 

(6:28p) >Isn’t it cute how delusional he is, Daryl? Like you’d ever pick him over me.<

 

(6:29p) -im cancelling my wedding tht i havent even planned 2 have yet-

 

(6:29p) -congrats uve ruined my marriage-

 

(6:30p) ~ah, well, easy come easy go.~

 

(6:30p) >Probably for the best. I genuinely cannot imagine you in a tuxedo.<

 

(6:31p) -im gna ignore u guys now n go get dinner started 4 carol-

 

(6:32p) ~hell yeah! kick those gender norms in the ass, daryl! you make that dinner for your almost-wife!~

 

(6:33p) -idk if it counts bc she made it i just have to put it in the oven bc im rly bad @ cooking n she doesnt trust me but w/e-

 

(6:34p) >Close enough.<

 

(6:35p) ~you’re doing your best.~

 

(6:36p) -mb my kids will grow up ok after all-

 

(6:37p) ~i don’t doubt it for a second, friend.~

 

(6:37p) >Maybe you can’t cook, but you sure as hell can parent.<

 

(6:38p) -thank god 4 tht bc i totes just dropped this casserole on the floor bc my leg gave out-

 

(6:39p) ~ :/ ~

 

(6:39p) ~...you’re doing your best.~

 

(6:40p) >Pizza night?<

 

(6:41p) -pizza nite-

 

(6:42p) ~nothing wrong with that.~

 

—-

 

Daryl leans over Josie’s crib. He kisses his fingertip and then presses it gently to her slightly parted lips as she breathes deep breaths through her mouth, out like a light. He shuffles over to Jesse’s crib where the baby is still awake, but only just, sucking on his pacifier with droopy eyes. Daryl smiles warmly at him, taking hold of his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. Jesse mumbles sleepily, his pacifier slipping out of his mouth.

 

“Shh, time for bed, baby,” Daryl whispers, giving Jesse his pacifier back. It’s a testament to how exhausted the little boy is that he doesn’t argue, but instead suckles on the pacifier and closes his eyes. Daryl ghosts the back of his hand over his son’s cheek, before taking hold of his crutches he has leaning against Josie’s crib. He walks on both legs to the door, slowly, but he makes it the whole way. 

 

“G’night,” he says quietly, switching off the light, the golden glow of the nightlight in the corner turning on automatically. "I love you."

 

He heads out into the living room where Carol is curled up on the couch with Henry, having already said goodnight to the twins. The TV is on, playing something forgettable, and she doesn’t seem to be watching it anyway. She’s scratching Henry behind the ears, looking thoughtful. She hears Daryl come into the room and it breaks her out of wherever it is her mind is at. She smiles at him and nods to the part of the couch not covered in blue heeler.

 

“Did you walk all the way from the kids’ room on both legs?” she asks when Daryl lowers himself down onto the couch, shoving Henry over and propping his shit leg up on the coffee table.

 

“Mhm,” he says.

 

“Think your physical therapist will finally free you from those crutches Wednesday?”

 

“Dunno. Hope so, but I can’t always keep the weight on, hence the pizza, remember?” he says, gesturing at the pizza box still sitting on the coffee table that Henry keeps eyeing hopefully whenever he thinks they aren’t paying attention.

 

“RIP casserole,” Carol says solemnly.

 

“Sorry,” Daryl says for the eightieth time.

 

“Shush, I’m teasing. Kinda wanted an excuse to eat takeout. Sick of saving money by making ten million casseroles. They all taste the same after a while. Did you drop it on purpose?” she asks with a nudge to his side. “Tired of my cooking?”

 

“We been over this. I lived on ramen and cereal for seventeen years. I ain’t never had real food before you, so everything you make is an improvement from how I used to eat.”

 

“You discovered my secret,” Carol says. “Find a guy with low standards and make him fall in love with me.” 

 

“Small world, that was my plan too,” Daryl says, and Carol grins.

 

“Great minds think alike,” she says. She closes her eyes and leans her head back against the couch with a hum. 

 

“Tired?” Daryl asks. She shrugs, eyes still closed.

 

“We have twin babies, are we ever not tired?” she asks. Daryl concedes the point.

 

“You okay, though?” 

 

“Yeah…” She trails off and then sits up suddenly, reaching over to snatch up the remote and mute the TV neither of them are paying attention to. “Can I talk to you about something?” she asks, and Daryl is immediately flush with anxiety.

 

“What about?” he asks, unable to keep the nervousness out of his voice. Carol smiles kindly, briefly cupping his cheek in reassurance.

 

“Chill,” she says.

 

“Mkay,” he says doubtfully. “What’s up?”

 

“Okay.” She clears her throat. “I wanna preface this all by telling you I still one hundred percent want to marry you, and my feelings on that haven’t changed at all.”

 

Daryl blinks.

 

“That don’t help me chill none.”

 

“Well, try to anyway.”

 

“Mm,” Daryl says. “What’s on your mind?”

 

Carol twists her mouth, playing with the rabies vaccine verification tag on Henry’s collar.

 

“There’s a logistics thing we gotta consider before we sign any papers,” she says tentatively.

 

“‘Kay, what thing?” 

 

Carol hazards a glance up at him.

 

“We don’t know if I’m sick,” she says, and Daryl frowns.

 

“Carol, I’ve told you a thousand times that I ain’t gonna ditch you if you end up bein’ sick,” Daryl says, but Carol’s already nodding her head.

 

“I know that,” she says. “That’s not the problem.”

 

“Then what is?”

 

“The same thing it always comes down to, babe. Money.” 

 

“I don’t get it,” Daryl says.

 

“If we get married and have joint income—if I’m sick and you’re making a genuine mechanic’s salary, or whatever you choose to do—that might jeopardize my getting on disability. Then I’ll be contributing nothing, and all my medical costs, any assistance I need, it’ll all fall to you. And you saw my mom at the end there, Daryl, you know how much care is needed, especially if it’s done properly. You and the kids don’t need to be buried in my debt.”

 

“You sure that’s how that would play out?” Daryl asks, chewing on a cuticle.

 

“I know how it fucked over my family,” Carol says. “We’d have to do more research into all the laws, but mom knew of couples that actually got divorced in order for them to receive the benefits they needed.”

 

Daryl soaks this in. The romantic side of him wants to say the hell with it, but the side of him that’s been dealing with finances since he was much too young knows that Carol has valid points. If it was just him he’d figure he could manage, but, he thinks, acutely aware of the babies fast asleep in the other room, it isn’t just him.

 

“What do you wanna do then?” he asks.

 

“If I’m sick it doesn’t mean we can’t still get married. It would just be our way, without the legal stuff. But I trust you enough to take your vows as seriously as any court document,” she says earnestly. Daryl nods absently.

 

“I do too, but we might not know if you’re sick for years. Decades, even. We could, I dunno, go through with the real marriage and then if it does turn out you’re sick we can do like them other couples and divorce if we gotta.” He hates the idea of divorcing her for any reason. He feels gross even saying it hypothetically. 

 

“Seems like an awful lot of work and a lot of sitting around waiting to see if we’re gonna be able to stay married.”

 

“You got any other ideas?” Daryl asks, at a loss. Carol knits her brows together and picks dog hair off the couch. She doesn’t answer right away, and then lets her hands fall to her lap as she looks Daryl in the eye.

 

“Yeah,” she says. “I’m gonna get tested.”

 

Daryl stares at her.

 

“You didn’t wanna do that, though,” he reminds her. 

 

“I didn’t,” she says. “And I know we went to all that hassle with the testing on the twins. But...I don’t know, Daryl. It’s not just the marriage—the getting on disability—it’s more than that. Thinking about spending the rest of my life with you? I wanna know how much time that life is really gonna be. And I wanna know…” She takes a deep, steadying breath, and cringes at herself when her voice cracks as she says, “I wanna know how much time I have left with them.”  

 

Daryl rests his hand under his chin and looks at the wall across from him.

 

“When would you wanna do it?” he asks.

 

“There’s a university in Atlanta that specializes in Huntington’s,” Carol says. “I know some of the people that work there. I was thinking of giving them a call and scheduling an appointment with them as soon as possible.”

 

Daryl worries his lower lip between his teeth.

 

“And you’re sure that’s what you wanna do?” he asks. “Once you know you can’t forget it.” 

 

“I’m sure. Are you okay with it?”

 

Daryl finally looks at her.

 

“This is your choice, sweetheart. I’ll support you either way, but ultimately you gotta decide.” 

 

“Yeah,” she says.

 

“Yeah,” he echoes. After a moment’s hesitation he reaches over Henry and takes her hand in his. “You make that appointment. If you decide before you go that you don’t wanna know no more then you can always cancel it,” he says. 

 

“Okay,” she says. “And we don’t have to tell anyone we might not get legally married. I mean, you can tell the guys, of course, and I’ll tell Michonne and maybe Maggie, but as far as anyone else is concerned, if it comes to it, our marriage is going to be just as legitimate as anyone else’s.” 

 

“Let’s find out first before we start assumin’ we can’t do it the way we wanna,” Daryl says. Carol nods.

 

“I don’t know what the test will say,” she says. “I really don’t.” 

 

Daryl knows better than to tout ‘let’s think positives’ and ‘the odds are in our favors,’ so instead he just leans over and pulls her into an awkward side hug and whispers,

 

“No matter what it does say, we’ll be okay,” because that much he can promise. 

 

Carol hums, pressing her forehead against his. Henry, sensing his opportunity, leaps out from in between them and knocks the pizza box onto the floor. He gets a whole slice and is dashing away before they can even properly react.

 

“Dumbass dog,” Carol says, picking the box up off of the floor, but she’s laughing as she says it.

 

“See? He ain’t worryin’ none,” Daryl says, glancing at the dog in the farthest corner from them, pizza already demolished. “So no sense in us doin’ it.” 

 

“Baby,” Carol says, settling back onto the couch, closer to Daryl this time. “You told me when I got home today that Josie can’t wear butterfly shirts anymore because it might make her develop a negative self-image. You worry about  _ everything _ .”

 

Daryl snorts, tugging her to him again.

 

“Well, I’ll try real hard, then,” he says. Carol smiles softly at him.

 

“I’m still gonna marry you,” she says.

 

“Pfft, why does that sound like a threat?” 

 

“Not a threat, just a reminder.” She gives him a kiss and then adds, “On paper, or just between us, you’re not getting rid of me.”

 

“Good,” Daryl says, pushing her hair back behind her ear. “‘Cause I wanna keep you for the rest of our lives.”

 

“Even if the rest of our lives get cut short?” she asks, more seriously this time. Daryl doesn’t hesitate. 

 

“Even then,” he says.

 

—-

 

_ April 2nd _

_ Sunday _

 

Daryl sits at a table in the far corner of Rosemarie’s Diner—the same table Carol sat him at that first day they met, which feels like a lifetime ago. He is quite literally twiddling his thumbs while he waits, watching the other customers with mild interest.

 

A few tables up from him there are two young women about his age sat across from one another. One is a cute, chubby blonde who keeps pushing her hair back behind her ears, and the other is a slender black woman who keeps ducking her head and laughing shyly. It has all the tell-tale signs of a first date, and Daryl, in the fleeting moment that they catch his attention, hopes that this shitty little diner does them as well as it has for him.

 

“You gettin’ stood up?” Daryl’s waitress asks, coming by to refill his Coke. Daryl snorts.

 

“Maybe,” he mumbles, checking the time on his phone. It’s only two minutes past the hour, and he did show up early.

 

“What kind of girl would stand up a cute thing like you?” the waitress asks, and Daryl blushes brilliantly.

 

“Uh. Not waitin’ on a girl. Waitin’ on my brother,” he mumbles, suddenly fascinated with the sugar packet holder on the table.

 

“I was gonna say.” The waitress looks him up and down. “You’re a bit of a strong, silent type, ain’tcha?” 

 

Sugar packets. Are so. Interesting.

 

He clears his throat.

 

“That’s what my fiancee tells me,” he says. He glances up at the waitress, who tsks at him and shrugs.

 

“Pity,” she says, getting the hint. She gives him a wink and heads back into the kitchen, carrying the pitcher of Coke. Daryl stares after her, brows knit together.

 

“What’s got you gapin’ like a dumbass?” Daryl turns to see Merle at his table, leaning against a chair.

 

“I think I just got hit on?” Daryl says, baffled. “That’s never happened before, why did that happen?”

 

Merle snorts, pulling the chair out, flipping it around, and he sits on it backwards. He dangles his arms over it and shrugs.

 

“Females, they know when you’ve already got someone back at home; can smell it on you or somethin’. Makes you a challenge. Bitches love that shit.”

 

“Don’t call ‘em that,” Daryl says distractedly, still reeling. “I hope no one ever does that to me again.” 

 

“Hey baby brother, when it rains it pours. Best to just get used to it.”

 

“Right.” Daryl gives himself a little shake of the head and pushes the incident out of his mind. He turns his attention to Merle and regards him. He looks...healthy. That’s the only word for it. His eyes are brighter, his skin clearer, and he’s clean shaven and put together.

 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Merle says, frowning at the scrutiny. 

 

“Sorry,” Daryl says. He takes a sip of his Coke, choosing his next words carefully. “You seem different,” he decides on. Merle shrugs non-committedly.

 

“Yeah, well, you don’t get stuck in purgatory for three months and walk out same as you did walkin’ in. Kinda the point of the whole thing, ain’t it?” 

 

“Guess so.” 

 

The flirty waitress shows back up then with a glass of water. She sits it in front of Merle and then turns to Daryl, asking, “This the brother you was waitin’ for?” 

 

“Mhm,” Daryl says, averting his gaze automatically.

 

“I’m the handsome brother, but I guess you can see that for yourself,” Merle tells the waitress, who smirks at him.

 

“You want somethin’ else ‘sides water?” she asks him.

 

“I’m good for now, sweetheart,” Merle says. “Unless you wanna gimme your number.” 

 

The waitress laughs, says, “In your dreams, honey,” and gives him a wink before heading off again. Merle’s eyes follow her rear-end as she walks away. Daryl snaps his fingers at him, and Merle turns back to him with a huff. “Hell, baby brother, cut me some slack. Only women I seen for months was a tweaker chick, my hot therapist that only wanted me to talk about my daddy, and this one girl with track marks all up her arms. She actually wasn’t that bad lookin’, but she didn’t have no ass at all, and you know I like me a lil’ somethin’ to grab onto.”

 

Daryl briefly thinks about how appalled Ardent Feminist Glenn would be if he had to hold a conversation with Merle.

 

“Whatever. Don’t encourage her. I don’t want her to keep comin’ back here.”

 

Merle raises his eyebrows.

 

“ _ That’s _ the chick who was hittin’ on you?” He lets out a low whistle. “Baby brother, how the hell do you attract all the babes?”

 

“Aren’t you here to convince me you ain’t a piece of shit no more?” Daryl reminds him, rolling his eyes. Merle laughs and raises his hands up in surrender.

 

“Alright, I’ll behave myself,” he says.

 

“Mm,” Daryl says doubtfully. “So where you stayin’ now that you’re out?” 

 

“Bunkin’ with this guy that got out same time I did. He’s alright. Goes real hard on that twelve step shit, though. Real into the idea that Jesus is gonna keep him sober.”

 

Daryl grins at the thought of Merle being roommates with such a person.

 

“He got throw pillows with the Serenity Prayer on ‘em?” 

 

“Pfft, not yet. Pro’ly gonna walk in on him cross stitching it onto one any day now, though. I’m so sick of that damn prayer that I’d rather walk in on him jackin’ it. I hear the damn thing in my sleep.” Merle places a hand over his heart and recites with exaggerated passion, “‘God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the goddamn difference.” He scoffs, dropping his hand. “Them meetings gotta change up their scripts every now and then.”

 

Daryl laughs in spite of himself.

 

“I’m still goin’, though,” Merle says more seriously. “That’s why I was late, actually, went and hung out in a church basement with a paper cup full of some weak-ass coffee, listenin’ to sob stories or an hour.” 

 

“Sounds like a pain,” Daryl says. “Glad you went, though.”

 

“Yeah. Roommate tried draggin’ me to an actual church service beforehand, but there are limits, man.” He wipes his nose with the back of his hand. “Got myself a job, too.” 

 

“No shit? Already?” 

 

“Yeah, put in apps while I was still in purgatory. Doin’ packagin’ down at the meat plant. Decent paycheck. I gotta get caught up on some bills and shit, but I ain’t forgotten I owe you. I’ll make sure I get you some; promise I’m good for it.”

 

“You ain’t gotta pay me to make amends, Merle,” Daryl says.

 

“I know, but it’s my fault you’re pro’ly drownin’ in hospital bills. Imma help where I can. Let me, alright?”

 

“Fine,” Daryl sighs. “But get yourself on your feet first, ‘kay?” 

 

“‘Kay.” Merle clears his throat. “So, uh...how’s the family?”

 

Daryl smiles a little and picks up an envelope he’s got sitting next to his glass. He hands it to Merle, who gives him a bemused frown before lifting up the flap that Daryl didn’t bother to secure. When Merle sees what’s inside he lights up like a Christmas tree.

 

“I got ‘em printed earlier today," Daryl says. "Sorry I went kinda overboard. I couldn’t pick between ‘em all.” 

 

Merle pulls out the thick stack of pictures from inside the envelope and shakes his head.

 

“No way to go overboard,” he tells Daryl. He starts shuffling through them. “You’re absolutely bullshittin’ me if you’re sayin’ these are the same kids I saw in December. They’re lil’ giants.”

 

“I know, it’s like I woke up one day and they weren’t my helpless babies no more. They’re sittin’ up on their own, gettin’ real damn close to crawlin’, and all kinds of new stuff. Can you believe I used to be able to practically hold ‘em in one hand?” 

 

“Not at all,” Merle says absently, staring at the pictures so intensely Daryl feels like he’s trying to make the twins manifest out of thin air. “Gotta hand it to you, baby brother, you and that girl of yours make some damn beautiful kids.”

 

“Thanks,” Daryl says with a hint of pride. 

 

Daryl gives Merle time to sort through the pictures. His brother has an expression of bittersweetness on his face that slowly morphs into sadness. He reaches the end of the pictures and looks up at Daryl with a sigh.

 

“I miss ‘em, man,” he says. Daryl, in the face of his brother’s blatant vulnerability, has to fight the impulse to invite him back into their lives right then and there.

 

“I know."

 

“And listen,” Merle says. He takes a deep breath. “I was a shit brother to you. I know I was. I never shoulda left you with him. I was so caught up in gettin’ away I didn’t even think about what I was leavin’ you with. But it weren’t ‘cause I didn’t care about you. It was, fuck man, I dunno what it was. Hatred of him, I think. And then it was the drugs. But I wanna make amends, baby brother, not for any bullshit twelve step program, but ‘cause you deserve it, and ‘cause I ain’t never seen nothin’ more precious than those babies of yours. Well. ‘Cept maybe one thing.” 

 

“What thing?” Daryl asks, frowning at the table, but for once sitting perfectly still.

 

“The day they brought you home from the hospital, momma sat you in your ratty, ol’ bassinet and went and passed out in bed. Dad was home maybe five minutes ‘fore he was off to the bar. I didn’t give two shits about you at first—thought you was just some nuisance I’d have to put up with—but sometime after momma laid you down you started fussin’. And for a while I was annoyed, waitin’ for momma to deal with you, but she didn’t get outta bed. Finally, I went over to you and lifted you outta that bassinet—you’re real lucky I didn’t break your neck, by the way, ‘cause I didn’t have no clue on how to hold a baby—but I took you in my arms and for some reason you settled down and just  _ looked _ at me, real curious like. You wrapped a tiny fist ‘round my finger and just stared at me like I was the most fascinatin’ thing on the damn planet, and right then I knew you weren’t no nuisance. You was my baby brother, and you was mine to protect. I told you that; said, ‘Baby brother, I promise I’ll take care of you.’” Merle clears his throat, ducking his head in shame. “I’m sorry, Daryl,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry I didn’t keep that promise.” 

 

Daryl’s mind is blank. He starts fiddling again, stirring the straw in his glass, the ice clinking together against the sides. Finally, he makes himself look at Merle, and he’s unnerved, because his older brother, who always seems so much bigger and stronger than him, is suddenly so small.

 

“Make up for it then,” Daryl says. “Fix it, while you still can.”

 

Merle opens his mouth to say something, but right before he can, Flirty Waitress chooses that moment to come back. 

 

“Everythin’ okay over here with y’all?” she asks. The two brothers exchange a glance and identical snorts.

 

“We’re fine, doll,” Merle tells her sweetly. Flirty Waitress clicks her tongue. She turns to Daryl and says,

 

“Figures your brother would be the one hittin’ on me and you’d be the one with the fiancee.”

 

“Uh, come again?” Merle asks instantly, Flirty Waitress forgotten as his eyes snap over to Daryl, who smiles sheepishly.

 

“I was gettin’ around to tellin’ you,” he says. Merle’s mouth falls open into a gaping grin.

 

“No fuckin’ way,” he says.

 

“Asked her a week or two ago. She said yes.”

 

Merle lets out a loud whoop and jumps out of his seat. He runs over to Daryl, and Flirty Waitress moves out of the way with a small noise of surprise. Merle takes Daryl’s face in his hands and plants a big kiss on his cheek.

 

“Oh, gross, c’mon man,” Daryl says, wiping his face with a grimace.

 

“Hey everybody,” Merle shouts to the other customers in the restaurant. Most turn to look at them and Daryl turns tomato red instantly. “My baby brother’s gettin’ hitched!”

 

There is very scattered applause that does nothing to curb Merle’s enthusiasm. He turns back to Daryl, beaming.

 

“Congratufuckinlations,” he says.

 

“Thanks,” Daryl says, his voice muffled because his hands are covering his face. Merle slaps him on the back.

 

“Shit’s gonna work out, man. I can feel it.”

 

Daryl drops his hands and looks up at his older brother. He gives a long-suffering sigh, but smiles a small smile in spite of himself.

 

“Yeah,” he says. “Maybe you’re right.” 

 

“Ain’t no maybe about it,” says Merle. “I’m tellin’ you, baby brother, everything’s comin’ up roses.”

 

—-

 

_ April 7th _

_ Friday _

 

Carol is quiet the whole way to Atlanta. The kids are too, and Daryl, who is usually at ease in silence, finds this one deafening. They both knew this appointment was coming, but they’ve been putting it out of their minds, focusing instead on the kids, work, the dog, the house—literally anything else.

 

They arrive at Emory University, pulling into a parking lot next to a building with a sign declaring it a “Center of Excellence” in terms of care regarding Huntington’s patients, of which Carol may become one.

 

“Ready?” Daryl asks when he’s turned off the ignition.

 

“No,” she says. “Let’s go.”

 

Daryl gets out and leans against the van with his new cane beside him, and unbuckles the twins from the backseat. He hands them, one after the other, to Carol, who gets them settled in the stroller, and the four of them head towards the entrance, taking Daryl’s faster-but-still-slow pace.

 

“Hello,” a cheerful receptionist says when they approach her. “How can I help you?”

 

“Um, I have an appointment with Dr. Allen? Carol Miller?” 

 

“Yep,” the receptionist says brightly, clacking on a few keys on her computer. “I’ll let him know you’re here. Go ahead and have a seat in the waiting room.”

 

“Okay,” Carol says in a small voice. She pushes the stroller towards the waiting room, and Daryl follows close behind. 

 

Daryl, a waiting room pro, finds this one to be more uncomfortable than most. It’s professional, with nice, comfortable chairs, and big windows filtering in natural light. That’s not what bothers him, though. What bothers him is the man in the corner whose body is jerking around involuntarily, and the woman in the wheelchair across from him who has a man gently wiping drool out of the corner of her mouth with a tissue. It’s impossible not to see Carol and himself in the faces of these strangers.

 

He turns away from them, focusing instead on the twins. Josie is looking around, taking in all the new sights and sounds, while Jesse does what he does best and babbles softly to himself. Daryl picks up Josie’s teething ring and hands it to her even though she’s not fussing about sore gums; he just needs something to do. Josie takes it and stuffs it in her mouth like it’s an automatic reaction, her attention fixed instead on the rotating ceiling fan above them. Daryl leans back in his chair and puts a hand on Carol’s knee.

 

“How you doin’?” he asks her softly. She shrugs.

 

“Bad memories,” she says. “Mom would come here a few times a year. Not a lot has changed and it makes me remember. My therapist and I talked about that already, though.”

 

Daryl nods sympathetically—there’s nothing he can say that will fix the past.

 

“This doc we’re seein’, he know his stuff?”

 

“Dunno,” Carol says. “He’s newer, I guess. Mom’s old doctor was booked.”

 

“Hm,” Daryl hums. He doesn’t want her to have  _ new _ , he wants her to have the  _ best _ , even if all it is today is a blood draw for a DNA test. Carol’s phone vibrates then and she checks it, frowning slightly at the screen. At Daryl’s questioning expression she explains,

 

“Auntie. Sending well wishes, for the third time today. And whoever taught her how to use emojis should be shot.” She pockets her phone with an eye roll and Daryl snorts.

 

“You know, you’ve never mentioned whether or not she ever got tested. You ever talk to her ‘bout it?” he asks.

 

“She was never at risk,” Carol says, shaking her head. “She’s mom’s half-sister. They have different mothers. That’s part of why their relationship was so strained—Auntie was kinda like me and got the brunt of a lot of the caretaking duties for her stepmom—my grandma—’cause she was oldest. It built some resentment that I know she regrets. I don’t blame her, but I think she worries that I do.”

 

“It’s all a complicated mess, huh?”

 

“Understatement.”

 

“Carol?” 

 

The two of them look up to see a smartly dressed man with wire frame glasses and gelled hair standing in the doorway. With a heavy sigh, Carol gets up, and Daryl grabs his cane, getting to his feet as well.

 

“I’m Dr. Allen,” says the man flatly. He holds his hand out to Carol and gives a handshake that’s more like a millisecond sequeeze. Wordlessly, he gestures for them to follow him down the hall. He leads them into his office, which is decorated in his framed diplomas and various awards. Daryl catches a glimpse of one and sees that it’s a second place trophy from a golfing tournament. 

 

“So you’re here to get tested?” he asks, looking down at his papers, shuffling them around. He glances up, an expectant look on his face.

 

“Yeah,” Carol says quietly. 

 

“And I imagine you’ve considered the various consequences of that decision, yes?”

 

“I mean, I hope I have.” 

 

“Mm,” Dr. Allen says, folding his hands on his desk. “Frankly, I don’t see the purpose in  _ not _ getting tested. When you know then you can get in on experimental treatments, you can make preparations for when you’re unable to care for yourself—it’s the smart thing to do. I had a patient just this morning who I convinced to go through with it. She was a nervous bird, but in the end she saw that it’s really so much more practical.”

 

“Assumin’ Carol’s got it in the first place, though. She might not,” Daryl reminds the doctor, whom he’s starting to like less and less with every word he speaks. Dr. Allen turns to Daryl with a thin-lipped smile. 

 

“And who are you?” he asks. 

 

“This is my fiance, Daryl,” Carol says.

 

“Ah,” Dr. Allen says. He nods at the twins and asks, “And are these your biological children?”

 

“Yeah, but they don’t have the mutant gene,” Carol says. “We did a CVS when I was pregnant.”

 

“You tested them instead of testing yourself?” Dr. Allen says with a raised eyebrow. “That’s a bit foolish, isn’t it?”

 

Daryl bristles and Carol sets her jaw.

 

“I didn’t want to be tested then,” she says levelly, and Dr. Allen holds up his hands.

 

“I’m not here to judge. I’m here to offer objective support in your healthcare journey,” he says.

 

_ Could have fooled me, _ Daryl just barely refrains from saying. He exchanges a glance with Carol, and they wordlessly agree that even the OB-GYN that spoke in outdated slang was eons better than this asshole.

 

“Can we just get on with this?” Carol asks. Dr. Allen claps his hands together.

 

“Sure thing,” he says. “Let’s rock and roll.”

 

Daryl groans internally.

 

_ Great. _

 

—-

 

_ April 14th _

_ Friday _

 

“This is stupid,” Carol says. She and Daryl are lying on the floor, her head resting on his chest, her phone sitting on her belly. The twins are napping in the other room so they aren’t able to use them as a distraction. “If he doesn’t call today then we gotta wait all the way through the weekend, and I might actually go insane if I gotta go even longer without knowing.”

 

Daryl disagrees, although he’d never say so. He took the day off work to wait with her, like he did the day they heard back about the twins, but unlike then he finds that he doesn’t actually want to know, because it’s like he told her before—once he knows, he can’t forget.

 

“It’s still early yet; office doesn’t close for another three hours,” he tells her.

 

Carol merely sighs in response.

 

They lay like that in silence for some time, both lost in their own thoughts.

 

“Hey, Carol?” Daryl says after a while.

 

“Hm?”

 

“I need you to promise me somethin’.”

 

Carol tilts her head up to see his face.

 

“And what’s that?”

 

Daryl chews on his lower lip and absently strokes her arm up and down.

 

“I need you to promise me that if…you know, if the news ain’t good, that you won’t run. Promise that you’ll feel it, and let me be there with you to get through it.” He wraps his finger around one of her curls. “Don’t go to that place where I can’t reach you.”

 

Carol says nothing at first, until, finally, she nods.

 

“I’ll feel it,” she says. “If the news is bad, I’ll feel it, I promise.” 

 

“Thank you,” Daryl whispers. Carol lifts up her left hand and looks at her ring.

 

“We’ll be okay, right?” she asks, still staring at it. Daryl shifts so that he can take her hand in his.

 

“Without a doubt,” he says.

 

Another fifteen minutes tick by like a milenia. They try to make conversation, but neither of them have anything but the impending call on their mind.

 

Then, around twenty after two, Carol’s phone lights up, and Daryl hears her take a sharp intake of breath. She freezes, and Daryl whispers gently,

 

“It’s okay, baby, it’ll be fine no matter what.”

 

Carol nods, steeling herself, picking up her phone with a trembling hand. She accepts the call and puts it on speaker, muttering a nervous, “Hello?” 

 

“Hello. We’re calling to discuss your car’s limited warranty,” an automated voice says on the other end.

 

“Oh, fuck yourself,” Carol snaps at her phone, ending the call aggressively while Daryl snorts.

 

“Shouldn’t have hung up,” he says, squeezing her shoulder. “Coulda extended our warranty.”

 

“I will kill you,” Carol mutters, shaking her head. She lets out a long breath and burrows closer against Daryl. A few seconds later her phone lights up again. She glances at Daryl warily.

 

“If it’s another robot we’ll riot,” he assures her. She huffs a small laugh and answers this second call calmer than before, turning on speaker.

 

“Hello?” she says.

 

“Carol Miller?” comes Dr. Allen’s voice on the other end. Carol swallows, and Daryl gets hit with a wave of nausea. 

 

“Yeah,” she says shortly.

 

“This is Dr. Allen. I’m calling with your test results,” Dr. Allen says.

 

“Alright,” Carol says, and Daryl can tell she’s trying with all her might to keep her voice steady. “Go ahead.”

 

“Well, Carol, it seems you’ve tested positive for Huntington’s disease.” Dr. Allen then adds, with not a trace of sincerity, “Sorry.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the literal only use i have for my women and gender studies minor is writing glenn dialogue. idec if you guys didn't find that bit funny, i laughed through the entire text log of him not being able to decide if he can say the word dyke. (the comic is called "dykes to watch out for," in case you didn't know.) add this and my one throw away line several chapters back about "fuck the police" being glenn's ringtone for rick into the "things i write explicitly to make myself laugh" pile.
> 
> anyway!
> 
> so like i said, i'm going out of town this week. what i /want/ to do is upload one more chapter before i go, bc it's a companion chapter to this one, buuuuut, if i'm being realistic, y'all may have to stick with this cliffhanger-esque chapter for a while longer if i can't get it done because i might not have time. 
> 
> that being said!
> 
> i'm visiting a friend that i don't always get a lot of alone time with, so while it would be hard for me to focus on a straight-through chapter, what i /can/ do is write oneshots. so if you're a fan of my "going down" series, which is currently not even a series bc there's only one story, keep an eye out, bc i think that's what this next week and a half will consist of. 
> 
> don't you worry your little butts, though, CEL will return soon. we're actually getting close to the end. sort of. i can see the end, rather. i don't know if more than like, two people even read this anymore, and if you're still reading it, duolingo owl bless you, and i hope you ride it out to the end.
> 
> that's all for now, love bugs. see you either when the next chapter goes up, or in some smutty oneshots. whichever comes first. -insert cumming joke here-
> 
> laterz,  
> -diz


	28. Broken Glasses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cw in end chapter notes

_ April 14th _

_ Friday _

 

“In regards to your diagnosis, if you’d like to make a follow up appointment to discuss your numbers, I—” Whatever Dr. Allen was going to say next is cut short when Carol hits the end call button on her phone. She lays it down very calmly beside her and remains perfectly still, head resting on Daryl’s chest like before. She says nothing. Neither of them do.

 

“Carol?” Daryl says her name tentatively when the silence has gone on too long. When she doesn’t answer he wraps an arm around her shoulder, not too tight, in case she finds touch suffocating right now, but tight enough to reassure her that he’s here. He says again, “Carol?”

 

“I’m trying,” she says quietly.

 

“Tryna what, baby?” 

 

“Trying not to go,” she says. “To that place where you can’t reach me. I want to. But I promised.”

 

“Keep trying.”

 

“What if I don’t know how not to?”

 

“Then I’ll help you figure it out. C’mere.” He pushes her gently until she moves off his chest. In one fluid motion, Daryl sits up and tugs her back to him, hugging her with his hand cupping the back of her head, his face buried in her hair. “Tell me how you’re feeling,” he says. “Start there.”

 

“I don’t know. I can’t tell if I’m feeling nothing or everything.”

 

Daryl pulls away and runs his hands down the length of her arms until he reaches her hands and threads his fingers through hers. He searches her face; she’s got conflict in her eyes. He knows she wants to run, and can feel her steeling herself, digging her heels in the sand to stay put. 

 

“Just say whatever comes to mind. That’s what Glenn and Rick have me do when I can’t figure out what I’m feeling.”

 

Carol swallows, eyes staring, unfocused at the space adjacent to Daryl.

 

“Remember when my mom died,” she asks him quietly, “and you held me in the back of your daddy’s pick-up truck and I couldn’t figure out what the hell I was supposed to be doing, because even though something horrible had just happened the world didn’t stop moving?”

 

“I remember.”

 

“The kids are gonna wake up soon. Henry’s gonna want to go outside. We’re gonna make dinner, clean up, go to bed; the weekend is gonna come and we’re gonna go through it—our lives are exactly the same as they were five minutes ago, and yet they’re entirely different. And I don’t know what to do with that.”

 

“I dunno either,” Daryl admits. “And there ain’t nothin’ I can say to change this, but I’m here, Carol, okay? I’m right here, and I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

 

“We know this could happen,” she says.

 

“We did.” 

 

She looks him right in the eyes when she says, “But I didn’t think it would.” And her face crumples, and the tears come, as Dr. Allen’s dispassionate words finally soak in, and there’s nothing Daryl can do but hold her, and so he does. He holds her like the world has stopped moving, even though it hasn’t, like he’s trying to keep her from blowing away.

 

His heart breaks as she weeps, but at the same time he feels relief. She isn’t going where he can’t reach her.

 

She’s staying right here.

 

—-

 

_ Hey babies,  _

 

_ You know when people ask you what superpower you’d pick if you could have one? Most people pick flying or being invisible or whatever, but that’s not what I’d pick. If I could have any superpower it would be the ability to fix anything that makes you two sad with just a snap of my fingers. Your momma too. _

 

_ I know there are times when you’re gonna cry, and sometimes I can fix it, like if you’re hungry or need a diaper change or just if you’re lonely, I can help you. But I don’t know how to fix everything and that makes me scared. _

 

_ What do I do if you get the flu and all we can do is wait it out while you feel miserable the whole time? What do I do if a kid at school doesn’t wanna invite you to his birthday party and it makes you feel unwanted? What about if you have a bad breakup or get hurt by someone you love? How can I fix things like that? _

 

_ I don’t think I can. I think there will always be broken things that just gotta stay broken and I’m sorry. If I could make it so you were always happy I would. I would trade my damn soul to make the world be good to you, but I can’t. I can’t I can’t I can’t, and I hate it so much cuz it hurts so bad to watch you hurt. To watch your momma hurt. _

 

_ But that’s something, right? That your pain is my pain too? And that even if I can’t fix it you at least won’t ever have to be alone. I will comfort you whenever you need it, even if I’m 80 years old. _

 

_ I ain’t a superhero, babies, but I love you more than anything in this world, and so just remember that when life hurts you real bad, and if you feel like you got nothing, you will always have me. Even if I’ve passed away, you will have me, cuz you will always always always have my love. _

 

_ Maybe it ain’t much, but all of it’s for you. _

 

_ Love you during good times and bad, forever and ever, _

_ Dad _

 

—-

 

Daryl comes into the bedroom, walking with his cane, after putting the twins to bed. He finds Carol curled up on her side on top of the comforter, staring out at nothing, her hands tucked under her cheek.

 

“You wanna go say goodnight to the kids?” Daryl asks, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress and rubbing his thigh, ignoring the ache he gets every night after spending the day putting weight on it. “I got them all settled in.”

 

Carol twists her mouth and gives a one-shouldered shrug.

 

“Am I a bad mom if I can’t right now?” she asks quietly. “It’s just looking at them...It’s making me think things I shouldn’t and I need to try and get myself together first.”

 

“You could never be a bad momma,” Daryl says, putting a hand on her hip. “Will you tell me what you’re thinkin’ about, though?”

 

“You don’t wanna hear it. It’s all bad,” she says. 

 

“Lemme hear it so I can help you deal with it,” he says. “Part of me bein’ a part of this means hearin’ the bad things.”

 

Carol sighs.

 

“My therapist calls them intrusive thoughts. Like thoughts that you don’t wanna be thinking that just pop into your head without permission.”

 

“Rude of ‘em,” Daryl says, smiling a little when Carol grants him a small laugh.

 

“Very rude,” she agrees.

 

“What are they sayin’? Why can’t you look at the babies?”

 

“They’re telling me they’d be better off without me,” she says, furrowing her brow, eyes trained on the comforter. “That I should get out of their lives while they’re too young to remember me so they don’t have to go through what I went through.”

 

Daryl keeps his face neutral the best he can. He says,

 

“They’d remember you.”

 

“They wouldn’t though. They’re babies.” 

 

“Maybe they wouldn’t remember no specifics, but they’d feel that somethin’ is missin’. Trust me, every minute they get with you is precious to them. Don’t cut it any shorter than it’s gotta be.”

 

Carol turns her head and looks at him.

 

“I’m having intrusive thoughts about you, too,” she says.

 

“What are those one’s sayin’?”

 

“That I should tell you I don’t love you anymore, even though it’s a giant lie, just so you’ll take your ring back and distance yourself from me so it won’t hurt you when I’m gone.”

 

Daryl shakes his head.

 

“That wouldn’t work anyways,” he tells her. “Even if you stopped lovin’ me there’s no way I’d stop lovin’ you. As long as you’ll have it, that ring is yours.”

 

“I’m just gonna end up hurting you, though.”

 

“It’s worth it.”

 

“Daryl—”

 

“Nah,” he says calmly. “It’s worth it, Carol. So tell that thought to take a hike, too.”

 

Carol huffs, but the corner of her mouth quirks up for just a moment. Daryl regards her, clearing his throat to ask,

 

“Are any of the thoughts the real bad ones?”

 

“You mean about suicide?” Daryl’s stomach flip-flops at the word and he nods. Carol smiles apologetically with another one-shouldered shrug. “Yeah,” she admits softly. “They’re there. But they’re only thoughts, not plans, I promise.”

 

Daryl chews his bottom lip, debating on if he wants to know the answer to his next question.

 

“When you did have a plan,” he asks slowly. “What was it?”

 

Carol searches his eyes.

 

“Why would you want to know that?” she asks.

 

“‘Cause. Ever since I knew you’d thought it through that far there’s been a piece of me that sometimes wonders, you know, was I gonna walk in on you? Find you somewhere? And then my brain just goes through a million different nightmare scenarios of what I might’a found if you hadn’t gotten help, and it sucks real bad.”  

 

“Oh, baby,” Carol says, shifting onto her back and taking hold of Daryl’s hand. “I never would do that to you. I never would have been that cruel.”

 

“What, then?” he asks. Carol blows out a long, slow breath.

 

“I was gonna drive to the coast,” she whispers. “All the way to the coast, and then I was just gonna keep on driving. Right into the ocean, where you and the kids would never have to see. That’s what I would think about. Fantasize about, more like. At the time it made so much sense. It felt flawless, like I was helping you as well as myself.”

 

“But it doesn’t feel like that now?”

 

“No,” she says. “No, I can recognize it for what it is now. There’s that part of my brain that wants me to believe that’s the way to fix this, but it’s small, and I’m not gonna listen to it. I’m not listening to it.”

 

Daryl leans over to kiss her forehead. He pushes her hair back and tells her, “Don’t listen to none of them thoughts, okay? This is the shit end of the stick we’re holdin’, but we can’t let it ruin everything.”

 

“I know,” Carol whispers.

 

“And you can’t let it control how you live.”

 

“I know that, too.” 

 

“Then I need you to do somethin’ for me.”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“Go say goodnight to the kids.” Carol knits her brow together, and Daryl brushes a thumb over her mouth and smiles softly at her. “Say goodnight to them, ‘cause they need you, and ‘cause you need them, too.”

 

After a moment’s hesitation she nods. Daryl helps her up, and she pads barefoot out of the bedroom door. Shortly after Daryl hears her through the baby monitor. 

 

“Goodnight,” she says so softly he can barely catch it. “Your mommy loves you both to the moon and back.” There’s a puse,and he hears her add, “I’m gonna be okay, alright? For you, I promise I’m gonna be okay.” 

 

Daryl settles back against his pillow on his side of the bed, and finds that he believes her.

 

They’re going to be okay.

 

—-

 

_ April 15th  _

_ Saturday (Early) _

 

(12:03a) -either of u guys awake?-

 

(12:05a) ~i am.~

 

(12:05a) ~you’ve been pretty radio silence on us all day. did the doctor call?~

 

(12:06a) -yeah he did-

 

(12:07a) >I’m here too.<

 

(12:07a) >Your tone kinda suggests that it wasn’t good news…<

 

(12:08a) -no-

 

(12:08a) -it wasn’t-

 

(12:08a) -shes sick-

 

(12:09a) ~fuck.~

 

(12:09a) >Brother, I’m so sorry.<

 

(12:10a) -yeah its bullshit-

 

(12:10a) -she told me i cud tell u guys but she wnts 2 tell michonne n maggie herself so let her do tht plz-

 

(12:11a) >Of course.<

 

(12:11a) ~best behavior, i promise.~

 

(12:12a) -thnx-

 

(12:13a) >How’s she doing?<

 

(12:13a) ~is it like other stuff where she’s pulling away?~

 

(12:14a) -no actually-

 

(12:14a) -shes been tryin real hard all day 2 b open n honest w/ me abt how shes feelin im real proud of her even if hearin sum of the stuff shes thinkin is kinda scary 2 hear-

 

(12:15a) >Like what?<

 

(12:16a) -i dnt wnt 2 get 2 much in her business but like thinkin we’d b better off w/out her n suicide stuff-

 

(12:16a) -she said she isnt planning on doin nthn she said theyre intrusive thots n she just has 2 try n ignore them n i believe her-

 

(12:16a) -it just hurts my heart 2 think she wud ever wna do tht 2 herself tho u kno?-

 

(12:17a) ~yeah no, that’s a lot to deal with. how are /you/ doing?~

 

(12:18a) -idrk tbh-

 

(12:18a) -i dnt think ive rly processed it yet-

 

(12:19a) >Carol override, right?<

 

(12:20a) -rite-

 

(12:20a) -i mean like its obvi not wut i wnted 2 hear but it dnt change how i feel abt her-

 

(12:21a) >I never would have expected it to.<

 

(12:21a) ~yeah, there’s no way you’d let this end you guys or something, but still, it’s gotta hurt at least a little.~

 

(12:22a) -yeah…-

 

(12:22a) -yeah it does-

 

(12:22a) -its like-

 

(12:22a) i wnted 2 grow old w/ her-

 

(12:22a) -n thts dumb i kno bc theres no way 2 predict how life will go n we can die @ any time like i legit almost died 3 months ago blah blah blah-

 

(12:22a) -it just doesnt seem fair is all-

 

(12:23a) >No it doesn’t.<

 

(12:23a) ~especially not on top of all the bullshit you guys have already gone through.~

 

(12:24a) >What’s her prognosis, if I may ask?<

 

(12:25a) -how do u mean? shes gna die-

 

(12:26a) >I know, but is she gonna start getting sick soon, or…?<

 

(12:27a) -oh-

 

(12:27a) -we dnt rly kno. her mom started getting sick in her late 20s but tht dnt mean thts whn she will-

 

(12:27a) -the way it works is tht theres a gene in her dna tht repeats 2 many times or smthn n idk how many times bc she hung up on the doc b4 she got a lot of details cuz hes a douche so we gotta figure that out n tht mite tell us how bad itll b n if it mite not develop til later-

 

(12:28a) ~but no matter what she’s still gonna be sick? there’s no way to, I dunno, delay it until she’s older or something?~

 

(12:29a) -the way i understand it is tht u can treat the symptoms but only 2 a point n eventually theyll all get worse-

 

(12:29a) -i’ll have 2 take care of her whn it gets 2 bad-

 

(12:30a) ~that’s all fucking shitty.~

 

(12:30a) >It is. She’s lucky she’s got you, though.<

 

(12:31a) -y?-

 

(12:32a) >Because you’ll always make sure she’s getting the best care possible.<

 

(12:32a) ~husband goals.~

 

(12:32a) >We all wish we could have you as our husband.<

 

(12:32a) ~loving, caring, smart, great dad? the sultriest woodsman in georgia? carol’s got a lot to live for, bud.~

 

(12:33a) -lmfao thnx-

 

(12:34a) >We’re sorry this is happening to you, but there isn’t anyone stronger and more capable of dealing with it than you two.<

 

(12:35a) -i hope so-

 

(12:35a) -i think we just gotta not let it control our lives like we still gotta live it n enjoy our kids n each other n yall-

 

(12:35a) -we cant change it so we’ll just learn how 2 live w/ it ig-

 

(12:36a) >I like that. You guys have too much going for you to let this ruin it.<

 

(12:36a) ~let me know if you want any throw pillows with inspirational quotes stitched into them, my sister has plenty.~

 

(12:37a) -lol i think we’re gud-

 

(12:38a) >You guys are gonna be fine.<

 

(12:39a) -ik-

 

(12:39a) -we got each others bacterial meningitis- 

 

(12:40a) ~and you’re not alone. we’ve got your guys’ bacterial meningitis too.~

 

(12:41a) >Don’t forget the twins.<

 

(12:42a) -bacterial meningitis 4 all-

 

(12:43a) ~that’s what love is all about.~

 

(12:43a) ~although we may want to think about investing in some antibiotics.~

 

—-

 

_ April 16th _

_ Sunday _

 

Daryl is lying on his belly in the living room, watching Josie diligently play with some stacking cups she can’t figure out how to stack, and Jesse trying to eat a toy car, when he hears a crash and the sound of glass shattering coming from the kitchen.

 

“You okay?” he calls out to Carol, who had gotten up a minute ago to get something to drink. “Babe?” he says louder when she doesn’t answer. Frowning, he uses the coffee table to get to his feet, and takes hold of his cane, saying to the twins, “I’ll be right back.”

 

He hobbles towards the kitchen, and when he gets there he’s startled to find Carol in a ball on the floor, glass shards scattered around her. She’s shaking with sobs, and Daryl immediately lowers himself to the ground beside her, taking hold of her shoulders, asking frantically, “What happened? Are you hurt?”

 

Carol doesn’t lift her head or acknowledge him. Daryl takes stock of what little of her he can see. There doesn't seem to be any cuts.

 

“Are you hurt?” he asks again. After a beat she shakes her head, leaving Daryl even more confused. “Then what’s wrong, sweetheart?” he asks. He nudges the side of her face, and she reluctantly looks up at him with a tear-stained face.

 

“I dropped my glass,” she says, her voice thick and wet. Daryl furrows his brow.

 

“Is that why you’re crying? Carol, we have plenty of glasses, it’s okay,” but she’s shaking her head before the words have fully left his mouth. She thrusts her arm out at him, her hand splayed.

 

“Look,” she says, nodding at her open-palmed hand.

 

“What am I looking at?” he asks, bemused, as her hand seems perfectly normal to him.

 

“It’s shaking. Can’t you see how I’m shaking?” 

 

“I mean…” There is a slight tremble in her arm, but it’s likely due to the panic she’s having right now that he can’t make heads or tails of. “Not really?”

 

“I’m shaking,” she insists, letting her hand fall. “I’m shaking and I dropped a glass. Mom dropped shit all the time. Before she got really sick, that’s one of the things that happened first. She broke so many plates that dad made me start setting the table for dinner every night.”

 

“Ah,” Daryl says, putting two-and-two together. He pets her hair. “Baby, people drop things sometimes. It don’t mean they’re losin’ their motor skills.”

 

“What if it does for me, though? What if it’s starting?” She’s breathing so fast Daryl’s afraid she’s going to hyperventilate. He pulls her to him and holds her close.

 

“Then we’ll deal with it, but Carol, you’re only twenty years old. I’m willin’ to bet money that this wasn’t nothin’ but an accident.” He rubs her arm up and down and plants a kiss on the top of her head. “It’s just a broken glass, baby,” he whispers. “That’s all it is.”

 

Carol takes several steadying breaths, before pulling away. She wipes her eyes with the collar of her shirt and nods.

 

“Okay,” she says. “Okay, you’re probably right.”

 

“C’mon,” he says, using his cane to balance himself while he gets up. “Let’s go in the other room.”

 

“I need to clean up the floor,” Carol says, gesturing at the scattered glass shards.

 

“Let’s go sit with the kids for a bit and get you calmed down, then I’ll come take care of it, alright?”

 

“You don’t have to clean up my mess.”

 

“I know. C’mon.”

 

Carol huffs a laugh before standing up as well. They head back into the living room where the kids are still playing. Josie is staring at Jesse while she gnaws on the corner of a board book, and Jesse babbles animatedly at her about who knows what. Carol and Daryl plop down on the couch across from them.

 

“I’m sorry,” Carol says after a minute. Daryl frowns at her.

 

“Why? You ain’t got nothin’ to apologize for.”

 

“I do, though. I can’t go freaking out at every random thing, worrying constantly. What kind of life is that?”

 

“It’s still real fresh,” Daryl reminds her. “It’s okay if you ain’t adjusted to it yet. I sure as hell ain’t. But we’ll make another appointment, this time with a doctor that ain’t a piece of shit, and get more information, okay? Figure out a better plan.”

 

“Okay,” Carol says in a small voice. She pouts her lower lip out at Daryl. “This sucks.”

 

“Agreed,” Daryl says. He leans over and kisses her pouty lip, cupping her cheek, brushing his thumb along her jawline. Suddenly, something tugs at his pant leg, and he makes a small noise of surprise and pulls away, looking down at the floor.

 

He blinks.

 

“What the fuck?” he asks, and Carol leans forward to see too and bursts out laughing. Josie is sitting at the base of the couch, looking up at them expectantly with her mean-mugging, blue eyes.

 

“How’d you get all the way over here, pumpkin?” Carol asks Josie, looking over at where Jesse is still sitting and gauging the distance.

 

“Did you fuckin’ crawl over here?” Daryl asks the baby. “When I wasn’t watchin’?”

 

“Bababa baba la la ba la la la,” Jesse says loudly. Josie glances over at him and then gets on all fours and crawls expertly to her brother.

 

“Dude,” Daryl says, holding his hands up, mouth agape, while Carol continues to laugh.

 

“She didn’t want us to see until it was perfect,” Carol says.

 

“Yeah, but that means we missed it,” Daryl says. Carol kisses him on the cheek and then nestles up against him.

 

“There’ll be other firsts,” she tells him. “And you’ll see them. We both will.  _ I _ will.”

 

Daryl drops his hurt and baffled expression and turns towards her.

 

“Yeah?” he asks. She smiles at him, eyes still red, but dry.

 

“Yeah,” she says. “It’ll take a bit to believe it, but you’re right. I’m not dying yet.”

 

—-

 

_ April 18th _

_ Tuesday _

 

“Carol wasn’t at Mommy/Baby group on Sunday, is she alright?” Rachel is asking, while Ryan shoves a toy action figure in Daryl’s face, trying to get him to fully appreciate how awesome it is.

 

“Mommy said I could have this toy if I eated my basghetti even though it was gross. I do not love when mommy cooks sometimes, I do not have my yum face on but I eated  _ all _ of it so I got my new toy. Do you love it?” Ryan asks in what seems like a single breath. Daryl has a passing moment of terror that he may be getting a small taste of his future with his chatterbox son.

 

“Yeah, man, it’s real cool, I love it,” Daryl says to Ryan, looking at the toy he’s entirely indifferent to. To Rachel he says, “She and I had kind of a long weekend. She’s fine, though. Pro’ly will be there next week.”

 

“Is everything okay?” Rachel asks.

 

“Did you know that this toy is from a show that is my most favorite show?” Ryan asks.

 

“Yeah, we’re fine. Or will be fine. And no, man, I didn’t know that. What show?” Ryan rattles off the name of some show that Daryl can’t make out with Ryan’s toddler enunciation (or lack thereof), so he just nods sagely and says, “Oh yeah?” and hopes that will suffice.

 

“Yeah, mommy lets me watch when she is tired and says I am being a wild little monkey and making her go ‘naners.”

 

“Hey, maybe we don’t need to tell Daryl everything,” Rachel says quickly, casting a sheepish glance at Daryl who smirks at her.

 

“Daryl?” says Dr. Peterson in the doorway.

 

“Try not to be a wild monkey for your momma, kid. She did just get you that super cool toy, so you owe her one,” Daryl tells Ryan as he gets up and leans into his cane.

 

“But I love to be a wild monkey,” Ryan insists, and Rachel sighs.

 

“He does,” she says solemnly, and Daryl grins. “Tell Carol to text me if she needs to talk or just wants to catch up, will you?”

 

“For sure.”

 

Daryl says his goodbyes and limps behind Dr. Peterson to her office.

 

“So,” Dr. Peterson says once they’ve both gotten settled in their respective chairs across from each other. “Did Carol get her test results back from the doctor?”

 

Daryl, sitting his cane across his lap and messing with it, nods, his mouth twisted.

 

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “She did.” He hazards a glance at Dr. Peterson who sighs.

 

“Not good news, huh?” she asks.

 

“Not good news,” he agrees.

 

“How are you feeling about it?” At Daryl’s instant glare she holds her hands up in surrender. “Sorry, I must have lost my mind there for a second. I know better than to ask the dreaded, ‘how does that make you feel?’ question, I promise.”

 

Daryl smiles a little.

 

“Truth is I dunno what all I’m feelin’,” he says.

 

“Wanna break it down for me? Maybe we can figure it out together?”

 

“‘Kay,” Daryl mutters with a shrug. “I feel sad for her. I know that much. Sad that she’s gonna hafta go through all that, and sad that it must be so scary for her.”

 

“Understandable. She’s your fiancee. You care about her.”

 

“I  _ love _ her. And so I guess that means I’m sad for me too, and for the twins, ‘cause we deserve to have her longer.”

 

“You don’t know how much time you even have. Can’t the disease develop later on in life? Maybe you have longer than you think.”

 

“I know, but it’s like...hm, how do I explain this? It’s like it seems as though so many people get married and have babies with someone they don’t value, or who they end up leavin’, but I know me, and I know I’ll never leave her for nothin’, so it don’t seem fair that I don’t get to grow old with her.” He furrows his brow ducking his head, suddenly very interested in the metal of his cane as he adds, “Part of me, or hell, pro’ly all of me, wanted to be one of those couples who celebrate their fuckin’, I dunno, sixtieth wedding anniversary together, but now I don’t even know if we can get married legally in the first place.”

 

“Because of the disability benefits?”

 

“Mhm. We hafta look into all the legal bullshit at some point, and don’t get me wrong, I don’t gotta sign some paper in order to pledge myself to her forever, but it’s just dumb as shit that I  _ can’t _ . Hell, I remember this one dude who used to deal weed to my brother who pitched a fuckin’ fit ‘cause his girl wanted him to settle down with her and show her some commitment, and he was like, ‘I’d pro’ly have more freedom in jail,’ meanwhile the only thing I want is to be with my family for as long as possible. The world don’t make a lick o’ sense most days.”

 

“Sure seems that way sometimes.”

 

“I also been thinkin’ about kids.”

 

“You mean the twins?”

 

“Yeah, but also like, kids in general? I think, if it were up to me, I’d have more. Not like, anytime soon obviously, but down the road I could see that bein’ real cool. Best job I got is bein’ a daddy. But Carol’s not gonna wanna ever get pregnant again now that she knows for sure she can pass the gene, and I don’t blame her for a second. Gettin’ the twins tested was stressful enough, I’d never ask her to do it again.”

 

“I can understand that. There are other options when it comes to having kids that you two might want to consider if you ever decide you do want more.”

 

“I know. I just wish it were as easy as a simple fuck and then, bam—a baby, or two, without all the extra bullshit. I think I’m just feelin’ real sick of all the extra bullshit. That’s one of the biggest things.”

 

“You do seem to find yourself amassing more than your fair share of extraneous bullshit. How’s Carol handling everything? I know she has a history of pretty serious denial.”

 

“Oh my god, doc,” Daryl says, lifting his head back up to look at her. “I am so goddamn proud of her.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah. She’s open with me, tellin’ me stuff, hasn’t tried to deny nothin’, and was even makin’ a list of things she should bring up in therapy on Friday. She’s tryin’  _ so _ hard. That’s what’s keepin’ me level, I think, knowin’ that even though we just got served this big-ass crap sandwich, she’s handlin’ it in like, a legit healthy way.”

 

“I’m very glad to hear that.”

 

“Yeah, man, she’s showing me up. I pro’ly should work on processing it all more better or somethin’.”

 

“Are there any support groups?” 

 

“In town? Doubt it. In Atlanta maybe, but that’s too far. It’s a real rare disease. ‘Sides,  got a full-time job and two babies, one who just started to crawl; I ain’t got no time for a support group. Oh, did I tell you Jojo started crawlin’? Out of the goddamn blue. She won’t stop tryna get into everything now. She’s a pest. A damn cute one, but still a pest.”

 

“I warned you,” Dr. Peterson says. “What about an online support forum? I’m sure there have to be some out there.”

 

“Mm,” Daryl hums non-committedly. “Maybe.”

 

“It just seems that if you’re going to be Carol’s main support through this, you need to make sure someone is supporting you. And I’m more than willing to help, of course, but a catered group might offer more of what you need. Something for loved ones of Huntington’s patients—children, caregivers, family, that sort of thing.”

 

“Yeah, alright,” Daryl says. “I’ll google it; see what I can find. Dunno how helpful it’ll be, though.”

 

“Hey, it’s worth a shot,” Dr. Peterson says. “You never know, maybe it’ll surprise you.”

 

—-

 

**_—You’ve joined: Hunting for Answers: Friends and Family of Huntington’s Disease Patients—_ **

 

**daryl.d:**

 

uh hi i’m new idk how this works

 

**thorisbae27:**

 

Welcome! This is the intro page where you can tell us a little about your story and what brings you here!

 

**daryl.d:**

 

well my fiancee found out shes sick a few days ago n my therapist said i shud try a online support grp thing 2 help me cope n take care of her n our kids etc

 

**daryl.d:**

 

ig thts it?

 

**thorisbae27:**

 

So sorry to hear that! My sister was diagnosed two years ago. How many kids do you have?

 

**daryl.d:**

 

2 they’re fraternal twins n will b 8 months in early may

 

**cumguzzlingthepainaway_69:**

 

u know they are at risk now to, rite?

 

**daryl.d:**

 

no we had them tested b4 they were born they’re real healthy its just my fiancee

 

**homeopathichuntingtonwife:**

 

You should consider getting them retested. Prenatal science has evolved into nothing but eugenics. I wouldn’t be surprised if they took and stored your children’s DNA for research purposes and then just told you what you wanted to hear.

 

**daryl.d:**

 

wut

 

**homeopathichuntingtonwife:**

 

Don’t worry, if they do have it I can tell you the remedies I use to keep my husband healthy. Married nine years and so far no symptoms!

 

**cumguzzlingthepainaway_69:**

 

thats prob just cuz he’s a late developer dude.

 

**homeopathichuntingtonwife:**

 

You’d be surprised what holistic medicine can accomplish.

 

**homeopathichuntingtonwife:**

 

@ daryl.d are your kids vaccinated?

 

**daryl.d:**

 

yeah they got their 6mo shots in march

 

**homeopathichuntingtonwife:**

 

You know that vaccines will cause way worse diseases than Huntington’s, right? I’d put them on a detox and stop vaccinating ASAP.

 

**daryl.d:**

 

wut

 

**welcome2_theblack_parade666:**

 

@ homeopathichuntingtonwife there is no science behind the anti-vaccine movement and it’s causing people to /die/! Do actual research before you start a new plague with your ass backwards beliefs.

 

**thorisbae27:**

 

Remember, let’s make this a safe space for all opinions, we’re here to support each other.

 

**welcome2_theblack_parade666:**

 

Yeah ok except this dumb bitch is claiming that prenatal testing for HD is a form of eugenics. Let me guess, the moon landing was a fraud and the Earth is flat? So stupid.

 

**homeopathichuntingtonwife:**

 

When they start engineering “desirable” children using research from people like @ daryl.d’s kids don’t come crying to me when we’re all persecuted for being flawed because I’ll just be giving you a big fat I told you so!!

 

**thorisbae27:**

 

Guys, this is supposed to be a /safe space/ to talk about our daily struggles. We don’t need to be talking about eugenics.

 

**MAGA:**

 

wats wrong w/ eugenics? 

 

**_-You left this group-_ **

 

—-

 

_ April 20th (blaze it) _

_ Thursday _

 

"Okay, sorry, I'm back. Havin' a mobile baby is a fuckin' curse. We baby proofed the fuck outta this house, but it's like Jojo is  _ lookin' _ for shit to try to hurt herself on. Why did I encourage this?" Daryl is sitting at the table, his dice and D&D manual splayed out in front of him, and his laptop open to a three-way video call with the guys. On the floor he's made a pillow prison in a small circle around him where Jojo can crawl without accidentally murdering herself. "Remind me where we were?"

 

"While you were gone Rick rolled a persuasion check to see if Dick was able to convince the half-orc that he was a high-end prostitute the queen ordered and therefore deserved free entrance through the mysterious gate," says Glenn.

 

"Also we could hear Jesse talking the whole time so we decided he's playing the part of the half-orc."

 

"He'd pro'ly love that if he understood," Daryl says, glancing down at Jesse by his feet, who's babbling animatedly at his stuffed bear their friends had gotten him as a gift before he and his sister were born.

 

"When he's older he can voice all our NPCs," Glenn says.

 

"Deal. What'd Rick roll?"

 

"Ha, Rickroll," Glenn says.

 

"Shut up," says Rick. "Also I rolled...a critical failure. Natural one."

 

"Pfft," Daryl snorts.

 

"Yeah, so Dick goes up to Jesse the half-orc and tries to lie, and he not only doesn't believe you, but he like, _ immediately _ calls for security, so like, y'all should roll initiative."

 

"Nice goin', dumbass," Daryl says.

 

"Hey, you were off stopping a baby from pulling on a lamp cord, I didn't have Fartyl's wisdom to guide me."

 

"To be fair, Daryl probably would have had Fartyl just kill the guard, because that's generally his move."

 

"It's worked so far," Daryl argues. "Also I rolled a—Jojo, I swear to God. Are you tryna eat dog food? Where'd that even come from?" 

 

He goes over and takes the kibble Josie's trying to shove into her mouth, and she starts crying in protest. Sighing, he snatches her up and takes her over to the table, plopping her down on his lap.

 

"Sorry," Daryl says to the guys on his screen. "Carol had to stop at the store after work, she'll be home soon to help watch 'em."

 

"We don't care," says Glenn. "This way we get to see our niece and nephew. Hey, Jojo, I heard you're driving your parents crazy with this new crawling thing."

 

"You gonna show your brother how it's done so you both can make them go off the deep end?" Rick asks.

 

"He's still bein' weird and insistin' on scootin' everywhere on his ass, usually backwards," Daryl says, bouncing Josie on his knee while she eyes the laptop screen with interest. She reaches out to try and touch it, and Daryl usurps her by handing her a random piece of paper off the table that she immediately starts crumpling up in her hands.

 

“Maybe he’ll skip crawling entirely and go straight to walking,” Rick says.

 

“Or maybe he’ll just scoot around on his ass everywhere for the rest of his life and you’ll never be able to go out in public with him,” Glenn says.

 

“Eh, I’d love him anyways,” Daryl says, glancing down at Jesse, who’s rolled over onto his back and is still trying to talk even though he’s gnawing on a rattle.

 

“How’s stuff going at home lately, anyway?” Rick asks. “The kids seem happy and you’re not like, particularly broody or anything. Are y’all still handling the diagnosis okay?”

 

“Yeah, I mean, I dunno,” Daryl says, shrugging. He picks paper out of Josie’s mouth. “What else can we do other than accept it, you know?” 

 

“Is she feeling the same way?” Glenn asks.

 

“I think so. She has her moments where the total bullshit of the situation seems to hit her, but like, so do I. We’re doin’ what we can—Jojo, you can’t eat grocery lists, just play with it—I talked to the brain doc the other day, and Carol’s talkin’ with hers tomorrow. I’m takin’ a half day at work to chill with her afterwards in case it’s too much for her. So...we’re tryin’? I guess?”

 

“God, you guys sound so well-adjusted,” Glenn says, scrunching his nose in disgust. Daryl laughs.

 

“I know, right? Pretty soon we’ll be like Grace and will have big wall decals sayin’ ‘live, laugh, love’ on ‘em.”

 

“I don’t think you can call anyone related to Glenn ‘well-adjusted,’” Rick says. “A well-adjusted family couldn’t create this weirdo.”

 

“Fuck yourself,” says Glenn, while Daryl snorts.

 

“‘Kay, Jojo’s tryna eat my dice, let’s play ‘fore she swallows my D20.”

 

“Alright. What’d you all get for initiative?” 

 

They plunge ahead, occasionally interrupted by troublemaking babies, but none of them mind—as far as they’re concerned, the twins are just as much a part of the campaign as any of them. 

 

—-

 

_ April 21st _

_ Friday _

 

Daryl’s on the couch with Henry watching some truly awful, campy daytime talk show he found back when he was on medical leave from work after getting out of the hospital. He’s waiting on Carol. The twins are still at their aunt’s house for a few hours yet, even though Daryl wanted to go get them. Ultimately, he decided that if therapy went rough, Carol could use a little time to simply be comforted, and that’s sometimes hard to do while parenting.

 

Suddenly, Henry’s ears prick up, and a moment later Carol is coming in the front door, and in the moment after that she’s fighting to keep an excitable blue heeler from licking her face.

 

“Yes, hello, I know I know, I’m home early, how exciting,” she tells the dog, getting him to settle down and then giving him scratches. She looks up at Daryl and says a simple, “Hey.”

 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Daryl says, shutting the TV off, partially to focus all of his attention on her, and partially because he doesn’t want her to know he watches campy talk shows. “How’d it go?”

 

He holds out his hand, and Carol escapes Henry and walks over to take it, leaning down to kiss him hello. He shifts over so she can sit next to him, and waits patiently. She has tell-tale signs that tears were on her face not that long ago, with her eyes a little puffy, and her cheeks a little flush. She doesn’t appears withdrawn, however, but rather bright and attentive, and Daryl takes this as a good sign.

 

“It was hard,” she says. “But necessary. She mostly just let me vent, and in the last few minutes we talked about what the future might look like.”

 

“Y’all come to any conclusions?” Daryl asks. Carol shrugs, kicking off her shoes and bringing her feet up onto the couch.

 

“We talked about the marriage, and we talked about school. I told her about how I didn’t realize how much I wanted a legal marriage until I might not get to have one, which I know is stupid, but I think a part of me wants to be able to prove that your typical marriage doesn’t have to be toxic or abusive.”

 

“That ain’t sutpid, baby,” Daryl says, rubbing her back. “I get it. Hell, I told my doc nearly the exact same thing. It’s like, on the one hand, it don’t matter at all, but on the other, it totally does.”

 

“Exactly. We talked about how you and I can look into it still, and maybe see if there are any policy changes, and a whole slew of other romantic shit like that.”

 

Daryl snorts and asks, “What about school?”

 

“At first I told her I didn’t see much point in doing it, because why build up a career that I know I won’t be able to keep doing, but she made me look at the flaws in my logic.”

 

“Ain’t that the fuckin’ worst when they do that?”

 

“Right? But no, she reminded me that mom didn’t become unable to work until a few years after the onset, and she developed it pretty early on, so there’s a decent chance that I could get at least a solid decade of work in if I do what I’ve been planning on and sending in an application to that community college Tara suggested.”

 

“School’s still on the table, then?”

 

“Yeah, I think it is,” Carol says, smiling at him. “I think the way to get the upper hand on this thing is to enjoy the fuck out of my life. So that’s what I’m gonna do.”

 

Daryl searches her eyes and returns the smile.

 

“I’m real, real proud of you, Carol,” he tells her. “Like, crazy proud. This ain’t easy for none of us, but you’re handlin’ it like a goddamn pro.”

 

“I’ve tried the alternative to letting myself feel it, and it very literally almost killed me. I’m not perfect, and I’m still gonna have my shit days, but I want to stay as far away from that place as I can. For the kids, and you, but like...also for me.”

 

“Superwoman status,” Daryl says softly before giving her a long kiss. “I love you.”

 

“Love you, too. Thank you for taking the time to be with me today. I know you hate making up hours on Saturdays. That’s your twin time.”

 

“Yeah, well, you’re worth my time too.”

 

“Flirt,” Carol says, but she seems genuinely touched. She picks up the remote then, and before Daryl can stop her she turns on the TV, and Daryl’s campy talk show pops up. She looks at him silently.

 

“I wasn’t watchin’ that,” Daryl says.

 

“Yeah? Why’s it on this channel then?”

 

“I was watchin’ what was on before it.”

 

“What was on before it?”

 

“Uh...porn?”

 

“Mm,” Carol says, smirking. “Daytime television’s gotten really lax about their censorship.”

 

“Shut up,” Daryl mutters. Carol laughs. She tosses the remote onto his lap and stands up.

 

“I’m gonna go get a Diet Coke, you want anything?” she asks.

 

“No thanks.”

 

Carol nods and starts towards the kitchen. She pauses, frowning, and pulls her phone out of her pocket. The screen is lit up with an incoming call.

 

“Who is it?” Daryl asks.

 

“Dunno, don’t recognize the number,” Carol says with a shrug. She continues to the kitchen while she swipes up to accept the call. “Hello?” she asks as she walks away. “...This is she.”

 

The rest of the conversation goes out of earshot for Daryl. He can hear her saying something while rummaging around in the kitchen, but he can’t make out any words. He takes the opportunity to catch the tail-end of his talk show. It is not good nor particularly interesting and he watches the whole thing.

 

A few minutes later, as the credits are rolling, both he and Henry startle when the sound of glass shattering comes from the other room.

 

Daryl doesn’t bother calling out to check on her this time. He gets to his feet, the majority of his weight on his good leg, and hurries to the kitchen the best he can with his cane.

 

Carol’s not in a ball on the floor today, although the glass—which is in a million pieces—is scattered all over. Instead, she’s standing up with her back against the counter, her hands covering her face, her phone sitting beside the sink behind her. She’s shaking.

 

“Hey,” Daryl says, coming over to her, careful to avoid the glass shards with his socked feet. “It’s okay.” He puts a hand on her shoulder, ready to comfort her like he did the other day, when she drops her arms abruptly and he realizes that she isn’t crying. She’s  _ laughing _ . 

 

“Carol, what…?” He knits his brow together, at a total loss. She presses her forehead against his chest and continues laughing so hard she’s sucking air in like she can’t get enough. He holds her by the shoulders, baffled. “You gonna tell me what’s so funny?” 

 

It takes Carol a minute to compose herself. She takes several steadying breaths before stepping back to face him, wiping her eyes with her thumbs.

 

“That was my mom’s old doctor from the University hospital,” she explains, a few belated chuckles escaping her mouth. “He said that Dr. Allen has been placed on suspension for a pending investigation on several claims of negligence, including, but not limited to, mixing up patients’ charts. More specifically, mixing up  _ my _ chart with the person he tested before me last Friday.”

 

Daryl shakes his head.

 

“I don’t get it, what does that mean?”

 

Carol takes his hands in hers and gives him a huge grin.

 

“I’m not sick,” she says. “It means I’m not sick.”

 

Daryl blinks at her, still not processing it.

 

“What? But your test results—”

 

“Weren’t actually mine. My mom’s old doctor, he told me they discovered the mistake this morning. My numbers are just fine. I’m not at risk at all.” 

 

“...Holy shit?” Daryl says, too many thoughts hitting him at once that he can’t single out any of them. He still doesn’t think he’s understanding.

 

“Baby,” Carol says, sliding her hands up his arms and then cupping his cheeks. “ _ I don’t have Huntington’s Disease. _ ”

 

That statement breaks through the wall of chaos in his brain. He barks a laugh and then tugs her to him roughly, wrapping his arms around her tight. He then grips her by the shoulders and holds her out in front of him. “Are you for sure? You ain’t fuckin’ with me?” 

 

“No,” Carol says, and  _ now _ the tears are starting. “I’m dead serious.” 

 

“But we just...a minute ago...on the couch...therapy?” Daryl falters.

 

“I know, I wasted a whole therapy session for nothing,” Carol says, laughing and crying at the same time. She kisses him on the mouth hard and shakes her head in disbelief. “I wasted a whole  _ week _ for nothing, come to think about it. Damnit, and I was doing so good, too. All those healthy coping mechanisms? Letting myself be vulnerable? Pointless!” 

 

Daryl laughs, feeling a bit hysterical. He pushes her hair off of her face, swallowing. 

 

“You’re okay,” he says finally. 

 

“I’m okay,” she says. A thought seems to come to her and she smiles wickedly at him. She holds up her left hand, the ring on her finger on full display. “Still wanna marry me?” she asks. 

 

Daryl’s heart swells.

 

“Guess I gotta now,” he manages to joke. “Lost my excuse not to.”

 

“Shut up,” Carol laughs, smacking him on the chest. He grins and hugs her again. 

 

“Of course I do, Carol,” he whispers, his face buried in her hair. “Of course I fuckin’ do.”

 

They stand like that for some time, breathing in tandem, trying to make sense of their whole perspective on their future making such an abrupt turn.

 

“Hey baby?” Daryl says after a while.

 

“Yeah?” Carol asks, not bothering to pull away.

 

“I’m all for you expressing your emotions,” he says. “But maybe you should try not to do it while you’re holdin’ glasses.”

 

Carol snorts, turning her head to look at the broken glass surrounding them. She looks up at him and shrugs.

 

“We can always buy new glasses,” she says. Daryl smiles softly.

 

“Yeah,” he says. “Guess you’re right.”

 

—-

 

Around nine that night, Daryl comes back in from playing fetch with Henry and goes into their room, where Carol immediately holds a finger to her lips. She’s lying on her side in bed, Jesse and Josie curled up together next to her, both fast asleep. Daryl creeps over to the other side of the bed, and climbs in slowly, careful not to jostle the babies. He lies on his side as well, he and Carol across from one another, with the twins in the dip in the mattress in between them.

 

“Want me to take them to the nursery?” Daryl whispers, but Carol shakes her head.

 

“No, not yet,” she whispers back. Josie and Jesse have their arms intertwined, their foreheads touching, and Carol gives them a melancholy smile.

 

“Hey,” whispers Daryl. “What’s the matter?”

 

Carol chews on her lower lip and lets out a sigh.

 

“I’m thinking about the person who Dr. Allen switched my test results up with,” she whispers. 

 

“What about ‘em?”

 

“Just…” She brushes her hand lightly through each twins’ hair. “I got a random call this afternoon telling me I’ve got a lifetime left after thinking I had an expiration date, and they got one telling them the exact opposite, and it doesn’t seem fair.” 

 

“It ain’t fair,” Daryl agrees. “But that’s why Dr. Allen ain’t shit as a doctor; why they’re lookin’ into what all he’s done.”

 

“I know. That doesn’t help them, though.” She tears her eyes away from the twins to look at Daryl. “What if they have kids? Or were planning to and now feel like they can’t? What if they’ve already celebrated their positive results, only to learn that they were wrong? Can you imagine if that were us?”

 

“It’d hurt like a bitch.”

 

“It’d be devastating.” She furrows her brow and lays her head down onto her pillow so she’s level with the twins. She says, “It feels like this whole thing was some sort of lesson. Like the Universe was testing me to see if I really have committed myself to getting better. But if that was my test, what the hell was theirs?”

 

“No way of knowin’, baby.” He reaches over and puts a hand on her hip. “We can be sad for them and happy for us at the same time, though.”

 

“I’m happy,” Carol whispers. “Elated, even, like I can’t even put it all together in my mind it’s so huge. But my heart hurts for them.”

 

“Yeah.” Daryl watches the babies’ little chests rise and fall. He regards the beautiful woman he now has a real chance of growing old with. He thinks about how it felt to lose that chance during last Friday’s call, and remembering makes him sick to his stomach. “Mine does, too.”

 

“I hope that, whoever they are, that they’re okay,” Carol whispers. “I hope that they have someone like you to help them be that way.” 

 

“And I hope they’re as strong as you,” Daryl whispers. 

 

The corner of Carol’s mouth quirks up. She closes her eyes and snuggles in closer to the twins. Daryl does the same, his hand still outstretched and resting on her hip, and God does he love all three of them so deeply.

 

Selfishly, he thinks he’d trade any stranger for her. He’s so full of adoration and relief. But still he mourns for them, too. 

 

There’s enough room in his heart for both. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for brief talk of suicide
> 
> \---
> 
> we be back, hoes! god i missed posting. if all goes according to plan, there should be 4, maybe 5 chapters left of this, so we're getting close to the end. hopefully i'll be able to go back to my normal schedule too.
> 
> and y'all thought i'd really give carol huntington's? how can i cut her life short when i have so many other ways to torment them? fools.
> 
> i'll see you thursday/friday, friends.
> 
> good to be back.
> 
> peace,  
> -diz


	29. Guess Who's Coming to Dinner

_ April 22nd _

_ Saturday _

 

(10:02a) -so u rmbr tht whole thing where carol tested positive for huntingtons n we spent all week learning how 2 cope w/ tht n shit?-

 

(10:06a) >Do I remember? Uh, yeah, seems to ring a bell. Why are you asking like that?<

 

(10:07a) -wheres glenn?-

 

(10:09a) ~i'm here, what's up?~

 

(10:10a) -yeah so carol isnt sick-

 

(10:11a) ~what?~

 

(10:11a) >What?<

 

(10:12a) -a doc from the place called n told us tht her charts got mixed up n shes actually totally fine-

 

(10:13a) ~wait, seriously?~

 

(10:13a) >No way.<

 

(10:14a) -im 100% srs-

 

(10:14a) -im @ work making up hrs n whn i left this morn she was feeding the twins pureed peaches n was happy n pretty n healthy-

 

(10:14a) -shes healthy guys-

 

(10:15a) ~that's like, top ten best news i've ever heard. (other contenders include hearing that our beloved nye whoopsies were also healthy, and hearing their birth announcement from you.)~

 

(10:15a) >That is fucking incredible, brother, I'm so happy for you.<

 

(10:16a) -im so gd relieved-

 

(10:16a) -like we were handling it like champs but it was cuz we had 2-

 

(10:16a) -we dnt have 2 anymore-

 

(10:17a) >So what happens now?<

 

(10:21a) -idk ig we live our lives?-

 

(10:21a) -i was thinking abt bringing up marriage n wedding shit w/ her 2nite whn i get home-

 

(10:21a) -im rly feelin the whole being married thing rn-

 

(10:23a) ~wedding planning!~

 

(10:23a) ~let me help, let me help, let me help!~

 

(10:26a) -lmfao we dnt even kno wut we're doing yet theres nthn 2 plan-

 

(10:27a) >I feel like that's not gonna stop him.<

 

(10:28a) ~i helped plan my middle sister's wedding and people still tell her how amazing it was, i am amazing at it, you should definitely let me help you guys.~

 

(10:28a) ~hey, maybe i should be a wedding planner!~

 

(10:31a) >Can you do that with a women and gender studies degree?<

 

(10:32a) ~honestly? you can't really do anything with a women's and gender studies degree, so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯.~

 

(10:35a) -idk how 2 have a wedding-

 

(10:35a) -the only 1 i ever been 2 was the 1 carol n i ruined-

 

(10:35a) -wut do i wear? idk how 2 wear things-

 

(10:37a) >My brain actually short circuits when I try to imagine you in a tuxedo.<

 

(10:37a) ~you wore a leather motorcycle vest to prom so i have no idea what shit you'd pull for your wedding.~

 

(10:38a) -can i wear my motorcycle vest?-

 

(10:39a) ~goddamnit, no.~

 

(10:40a) >Is Carol gonna get an actual wedding dress? I think that influences your wardrobe.<

 

(10:44a) -no clue-

 

(10:44a) -idk if thts smthn shes into-

 

(10:46a) ~okay, here's your list of what to ask carol: 1. date of wedding 2. location 3. dress code 4. overall mood.~

 

(10:46a) ~i can work with it from there.~

 

(10:49a) -idr hiring u as our wedding planner i think ur confused-

 

(10:50a) ~i'll do it for free and i'll make it awesome.~

 

(10:51a) >Let him, I'm curious to see if he fucks it up.<

 

(10:52a) ~shut up.~

 

(10:53a) -lol-

 

(10:53a) -w/e i'll tlk 2 carol n tell u wut she says-

 

(10:53a) -mite just b yall standing arnd while we sign papers-

 

(10:55a) ~you gotta do more than that.~

 

(10:59a) -we'll c-

 

(10:59a) -aint nvr gotten married b4-

 

(10:59a) -dunno how itll turn out-

 

—-

 

“Dadada!” Jesse says, greeting Daryl the minute he walks in the door, and even though he knows it’s just a new syllable the babbling baby’s picked up, his heart grows two sizes every time he says “dada.” 

 

“Hey to you, too, lil’ one,” Daryl says, grinning. Jesse and Josie are playing together on the mat on the floor. In lieu of a verbal hello, Josie gets on all fours and crawls over to him like a pro. Daryl balances himself on his good leg and bends down as far as he can in order to snatch her up. He shifts her to one side, holding his cane in the other, and plants a big kiss on her chubby cheek, making her give a rare giggle. “And hey to you too, sweet thing,” he tells his daughter.

 

“We really have the best welcoming committee, huh?” Carol asks from the couch where she’s nursing a Diet Coke and keeping an eye on the twins.

 

“For sure,” Daryl agrees. He goes and plops down beside her, Josie still in tow. Not for long, however. Her hello to daddy over and done with, she’s ready to go back to her toys. Daryl snorts at his daughter as she whines, struggling against him to get away. He sits her back onto the ground and shakes his head when she goes straight for her big, foam blocks, Daryl already forgotten.

 

“Quite the sentimentalist that one,” Carol says.

 

“Mm,” Daryl hums. He turns his attention to her, wrapping an arm around her and planting a kiss on her cheek as well. “Yours aren’t as squishy as hers,” he says.

 

“I made cookies earlier and ate five of them already, so just give it time and they will be.”

 

“Nothin’ wrong with squishy cheeks.” He kisses her cheek again, longer this time, refusing to pull away until she laughs and shoves him.

 

“Dork,” she says fondly. She kicks her feet up under her and rests her head against his arm behind her. “How was work?”

 

“Real exciting. Changed a battery. Blew up someone’s tires for them. Replaced a headlight. Crazy stuff.”

 

“Mm, how’d you handle such insanity?” Carol deadpans, and Daryl smirks at her.

 

“I did talk to the guys in my downtime,” he says tentatively, tracing small, slow circles on her upper arm. “Got me thinkin’.” 

 

“What about?” 

 

“They was askin’ about our wedding plans and I told ‘em we didn’t have none—been pretty busy dealin’ with other shit—but maybe we could...I dunno, figure out some details. Only if you wanna.” He’s not sure why he feels so shy, like she’s gonna mock him for wanting to plan their wedding.

 

He’s done well with kicking his self-doubts, but it’s kind of like when you scrub a pan that has burnt pieces of grease plastered to it; it’s hard to get it all washed out of him. There’s still some residue stuck to the sides.

 

But she doesn’t mock him at all. Instead, she pushes his bangs out of his eyes and gives him a sweet smile.

 

“Given all the shitty stuff we’ve been dealing with lately, wedding planning sounds so much nicer,” she says, and some of the tension leaves his shoulders. “I’ll admit, though, I don’t have a clue where to start.”

 

“Maybe with pickin’ a date?” Daryl suggests. “Ain’t that what people always ask when someone gets engaged? Like, in shows and movies and shit they’re always like, ‘have you picked a date yet?’”

 

“Okay,” Carol says agreeably. “Anything stick out to you?” 

 

“I dunno. Do you wanna do that long engagement thing people do sometimes?”

 

“I’ll be honest, I don’t really see the point,” Carol says. “We already know we wanna get married, so why put it off? Unless you’d prefer we wait?”

 

“I’d marry you tomorrow if you asked,” Daryl says. Jesse butt scoots over to the couch then, fussing a little, as he reaches out towards them. Daryl leans over to pick him up. Keeping the theme of the day, he kisses his son’s cheek.

 

“Squishy?” Carol asks. Daryl grins, sitting Jesse on his lap and bouncing him.

 

“Very.”

 

“I think that means we both are good with not putting it off forever?” Carol asks, bringing the conversation back, and Daryl shrugs, reaching over to the coffee table to snag a teething ring to give to Jesse.

 

“Works for me.”

 

“So then the only thing we need to consider is when our friends will be able to come.”

 

“Summer’d be the best bet, right? June maybe?”

 

“Maybe, but Maggie is going to the Florida Keys with Beth as a graduation present towards the end of the month, and Michonne’s classes get out later this year by a week or so.” 

 

“Yeah, and Glenn is fuckin’ dyin’ to help us wedding plan. I bet if we let him he’d do all the hard parts for us once he’s in town, so long as we give him the time.”

 

“Oh cool, let’s totally take advantage of him, then, I hate planning parties.”

 

“Ew, don’t call our wedding a party.”

 

“Okay, but it’s basically a party with a weird sappy part at the beginning.”

 

“No, it’s a day where we hang out with our friends, but like...with a weird sappy part in the beginning.”

 

“You’re an idiot.”

 

“And yet you agreed to be with me forever. Maybe you ain’t too smart neither. Huh, JJ?” He turns the baby around to face him. “Is your momma a damn fool for shackin’ up with your daddy?”

 

“Mmph mmph mmph,” Jesse says with the teething ring shoved in his mouth.

 

“He says she’s really damn  _ lucky _ ,” Carol says, and Daryl quirks the corner of his mouth up. “But okay. Not June, and not August, because that’s Henry’s birthday month, so how about sometime in July?”

 

“Okay. What day?”

 

“Uhh…” Carol picks up her phone and opens her calendar app. She twists her mouth in thought. She says, “I mean, any of these dates work. None of them are like, giving me crazy vibes that they’re ‘The One,' or whatever.”

 

An idea occurs to Daryl.

 

“What if we got married on the fourth?” he asks. Carol frowns at him.

 

“You wanna get married on the Fourth of July?” 

 

“Yeah, think about it,” he says, getting excited now, shifting the baby in his lap so he can tuck his good lug up under himself. “It’s an easy date to remember, it’ll be real pretty ‘cause of the fireworks, and then we don’t gotta go to Shane’s annual, dumbass party.”

 

Carol cracks up laughing.

 

“Are you seriously pushing for a Fourth of July wedding so you can get out of a different social event?” 

 

“And for the other reasons, too,” Daryl says defensively. “And our spot on the hill? Out in the woods? There’s a good view of the town’s fireworks from there, plus I ain’t never seen no one out there before. We’d have it to ourselves. We could set up somethin’ pretty and simple, and just have the people we like there.”

 

“An outdoor wedding, huh?” Carol says, clicking her tongue. “What if it rains?”

 

“Then it rains,” Daryl says with a shrug. “A lil’ rain never hurt nobody.”

 

“There are many hurricane victims who would disagree with you.”

 

“I said a  _ little _ rain. We’ll bring somethin’ to stand under if we gotta, and if it helps we could have a plan B location set up just in case.” A million ideas about how they could use the tall trees and view to make the spot fit for a wedding ceremony come to him all at once, but he reels himself in and ducks his head, saying sheepishly, “‘Course it’s just one idea. I’m cool with whatever you wanna do.”

 

Carol reaches over then and places a finger under his chin, coaxing him to look up at her.

 

“I love it,” she says. “More than that, I love that you love it. This day is about both of us, Daryl, not just me, so be honest with me about the things you want.” 

 

Daryl chews on his lower lip.

 

“Glenn got ordained,” he says after a beat. “How would you feel about him marryin’ us?”

 

Carol blinks at him.

 

“I regret what I just said,” she tells him, but she says it with a smile.

 

—-

 

_ May 7th _

_ Sunday _

 

Daryl walks through the park, trying to use his cane as little as possible, trying to see how far he can get before his thigh’s protests turn into straight demands.

 

It’s a decent day, leaning towards too hot, but tolerable if you're dressed right. (Daryl, who has never worn shorts in his life, isn’t, but he’s also not one to get bothered by the heat.) The sun is out, the sky is blue, and there are parents out playing with their kids. There’s a man chasing his two giggling kids around the jungle gym, and Daryl simultaneously can’t wait until he can play with the twins like that, and terrified at the thought of them growing up too fast.

 

Up a ways along the path Daryl makes out the reason he’s here this morning. Merle is sat on a bench, leaning forward with his arms resting on his knees. He’s watching the man play with his kids, too, and Daryl wonders if he’s thinking about his niece and nephew while he does.

 

“Hey,” Daryl says once his brother is within earshot. Merle looks away from the playground and nods a greeting.

 

“Hey yourself,” he says, glancing at Daryl’s cane and scooting over hastily to let him sit. Usually the obvious concern about the state of his leg would annoy him, but Daryl doesn’t think it hurts to make Merle feel a little guilty, given he’s the reason why his shit’s fucked up in the first place.

 

That, and he’s been pushing too hard and it’s starting to come back to bite him.

 

“Been here long?” Daryl asks, taking a seat and leaning his cane up against the bench.

 

“Eh, been here a minute,” Merle says, shrugging, making Daryl think he’s been waiting longer than he’s letting on.

 

“Sorry it took me a bit to get here,” Daryl says. “Had to help Carol get the kids ready for mommy/baby group, and they was both in a  _ mood _ . Hope they ain’t lil’ terrors for her.”

 

“What’s got them upset?”

 

“JJ’s got a tooth comin’ in so he was up half the night wantin’ to be held, and we tried puttin’ pants on Jojo and it pissed her off big time and she don’t forgive easy.”

 

“The hell is her deal with pants?”

 

“No clue. She’ll wear fuckin’ footie pajamas and shorts, but somethin’ about pants just makes her mad. We asked the doc if there was somethin’ wrong with her legs that was hurtin’ her, but she said she was fine and pro’ly just a bit of a drama queen.”

 

“Takes after her daddy, then,” says Merle. Daryl scowls at him.”

 

“I ain’t a drama queen; never was.”

 

“Pfft, please. You once threw a tantrum on me so bad, all ‘cause I gave you Frosted Flakes instead of Lucky Charms. Hell, it might’a been a blessing in disguise that our daddy beat any complaints outta us, ‘cause otherwise you woulda turned into a goddamn diva.”

 

“Yeah, lucky us,” Daryl says, and Merle snorts.

 

“What about your girl? She doin’ alright?”

 

“She’s real good. Had a, I dunno, health scare, I guess you could call it, couple weeks back, but turns out the doc she was workin’ with wasn’t worth his shit and got her tests all mixed up, so that’s been one helluva relief. She sent in an application to a community college, too, and I’m she’ll get in, she’s real smart. Oh, and we set a date for the wedding, too.”

 

“No shit?” Merle asks. “Y’all are havin’ an honest-to-god weddin’? I’d’a figured the two of you would courthouse it.”

 

“It ain’t much fancier than a courthouse, just a bit more  _ us _ . Gonna get hitched on the Fourth, out on that hill you showed me when we went huntin’ that one time years ago, remember? We’ll bring a couple friends, plus Carol’s aunt, sign them papers, and then, I dunno, get some food and chill for a while.”

 

“Sounds like it’ll be a good time,” Merle says, training his gaze on his lap. Daryl clicks his tongue a few times.

 

“Imma see what she says about you comin’,” he tells his brother. Merle huffs and hazards a glance at him.

 

“Don’t go makin’ her agitated on my account,” he says, but Daryl can tell he’s dying to be included in his baby brother’s wedding.

 

“You been keepin’ clean?” Daryl asks.

 

“As a whistle,” Merle says, puffing his chest out and placing a hand to his heart. “Roommate and I are gettin’ matchin’ Serenity Prayer tattoos on our asses later today, in fact,” he adds, letting his arm drop back down to his thigh.

 

“Dunno if you gotta go that far, but whatever keeps you off the dope,” Daryl says, making Merle laugh.

 

“I’m clean, baby brother,” he says. “Swear on my life.”

 

Daryl nods absently.

 

“Maybe we should try testin’ the waters a bit, then,” he says.

 

“How so?”

 

“I’ll see if I can’t convince her to sit down and do dinner together or somethin’. Maybe next Sunday? She’ll be more likely to cave if I say it’s a birthday present.”

 

“You think she’d go for it?” Merle asks hopefully.

 

“I think I could get a yes from her.”

 

“And she won’t take me into the backyard and shoot me execution style?” 

 

Daryl shrugs.

 

“Can’t promise that much,” he says with a smirk. “But beggars can’t be choosers.” 

 

“S’long as I see them kids first I guess it’ll be fine if she decides to take me out.”

 

“That’s the spirit,” Daryl says, clapping Merle on the back. His brother rolls his eyes.

 

Having an actual big brother is such a trip, he thinks. But Carol’s grudges run deep. Somehow he’ll have to find a way to rectify this situation.

 

He’s already dreading the conversation with her, which is admittedly not a great way to start.

 

—-

 

In retrospect, starting the conversation when Jesse is fussing while gnawing on a frozen teething ring, and Josie is in her high chair adamantly protesting pureed carrots, was not his best plan. Although, in his defense, Carol did ask how meeting up with Merle went, and it seemed like a good opportunity to bring it up.

 

He is regretting that train of thought now.

 

“Sure, let’s bring him right back into our lives like he didn’t almost kill you,” Carol says, voice cool, calm, and contrary to the words coming out of her mouth. She’s trying to wipe orange goop off of Josie’s face, but she keeps turning her head and scrunching her nose, arms coming up to block the washcloth in Carol’s hand. “Will you deal with your son, please?” Carol says. It’s rare that she gets short with him, especially when it comes to the kids, so he knows for sure now he’s struck a nerve.

 

“‘Course,” Daryl mutters. He’s only been back in the house for maybe five minutes and already the topic of his brother has made his home thick with tension. He limps over to the second high chair, where Jesse isn’t crying so much as whining forlornly like a puppy locked in a cage. Josie deals with pain by telling anything and everything to fuck off, but Jesse is one for melodrama. He looks up at Daryl with big, wet eyes, and says, “Dadadada.” 

 

“He’s so sad,” Daryl says, heart breaking as he lifts the baby out of the chair and into his arms. Jesse rests his head on Daryl’s chest and sniffles. Daryl braces himself against the counter and sits his cane beside him.

 

“He’s got a tooth coming in, he’s not dying,” Carol says, distracted by Josie flailing a fist and hitting a spoonful of carrots, making it splatter back onto Carol’s shirt. Carol huffs, not bothering to mess with the stains, knowing better by now that it’s best to deal with cleanup until after mealtime is over.

 

“He’s still hurtin’, though.” 

 

Jesse punctuates Daryl’s point by letting a couple of thick tears roll down his face while puckering his lower lip.

 

“He’s dramatic,” Carol says, giving up on the carrots and unsnapping Josie’s bib.

 

“He's damn good at it. Maybe he’ll be an actor.”

 

Daryl’s relieved when Carol cracks a smile. She rinses her hands and dries them on her pants as she walks over and kisses Jesse on his wet cheek.

 

“Sorry, honey, ignore me. I know you don’t feel good,” she tells her son. She feels his forehead with the back of her hand and tsks. “He might have a slight fever. Think it’s okay if we give him some more baby Tylenol? I gave him some this morning before group.”

 

“Should be long enough between doses, I think it’s fine,” Daryl says. He presses his lips to Jesse’s skin and agrees that the baby’s burdensome little tooth has his temperature up.

 

“I’ll go get some,” Carol says, but Daryl reaches out and takes hold of her wrist to still her. She furrows her brow at him until he tugs her over and kisses her. 

 

“‘M sorry,” he says quietly against her mouth. “Shouldn’t of dropped that on you when you was already stressed.”

 

Carol takes a step back with a sigh.

 

“No, I’m sorry,” she says. “I don’t mean to be a bitch about it.” Her eyes flit to his cane leaning against the counter. “Thinking about him just reminds me of how close we got to losing you and it scares me. I know I can hold a grudge too long, but this one seems justified.”

 

“I get that,” Daryl says, and he does. Like he told Merle months ago, if Carol or the kids had been in that car there would be no forgiving him, no matter how many NA meetings he attended. “But can we talk about it?”

 

“With words?”

 

“With words.”

 

“Well damn, if you’re suggesting we use words then I don’t think I’m allowed to say no,” she says, smirking slightly. “Here, lemme get some Tylenol for Jesse and finish cleaning up your stubborn daughter, and we’ll talk.”   
  


“‘Kay,” Daryl says. “I can help with Jojo.” 

 

“No, why don’t you go sit on the couch with our lil’ drama llama. He wants to be cuddled.”

 

Daryl has an inkling that she can tell he’s shifted almost all of his weight off his shit leg and is starting to really hurt, but knows him well enough to not tell him he shouldn’t be on his feet.

 

He doesn’t call her on it, though, and instead agrees, holding Jesse on one hip and taking his cane in the other, trying to walk as normally as possible to the living room, but there’s no way she misses his limp.

 

On the couch, Jesse burrows himself deep into Daryl’s embrace, his usual spitfire babbling sad and subdued. 

 

“I know, sweetheart, havin’ an ache you can’t do nothin’ about ‘cept wait it out is one of life’s biggest pieces of bullshit,” he tells the baby. “But it’s just a couple days, and then you’ll have a cool new tooth out of it.”

 

Jesse mumbles some syllables that sound doubtful.

 

Carol and Josie join them not long later. Carol puts Josie down on the playmat, and the baby is perfectly content to ignore them in exchange for a weird toy that makes an array of strange sounds when she shakes it. Carol takes a tiny syringe full of pink liquid and squirts it into Jesse’s mouth. Jesse screws up his face and smacks his lips several times, looking unsure of whether he hates that she did that or not.

 

“It’s to make you feel better, love,” Carol assures him, and when she starts rubbing his back he seems to lean on the side of forgiveness, letting his face fall back into his sorrowful expression, dropping his head back down with a sigh. Both Daryl and Carol snort.

 

“‘Kay, so he’s a lil’ dramatic,” Daryl admits. “But it still sucks when we can’t do nothin’ to help them. Hate that shit.”

 

“We are helping,” Carol says, still rubbing Jesse’s back. “We can’t make the pain go away but we can comfort them. Sometimes a hug and some validation makes a big difference.”

 

“Guess that’s true,” Daryl says, tucking his chin in order to see Jesse’s face. His son’s eyes are drooping, worn out from a full morning of fussing and melodrama. Jesse glances up at him and Daryl sees Carol’s features etched all over his face. “You know,” Daryl says to Carol, but not taking his eyes off the baby. “If I ever lost you it’d take me a minute to get comfortable lookin’ at JJ, ‘cause the two of you look so alike. I’d never let him know it was hard for me—ain’t his fault—but it’d hurt real bad for at least a lil’ while.”

 

“I thought the same thing about Josie when you were in the hospital,” Carol admits quietly. “Even after I knew you were okay, Josie would make a face here and there that was so much like  _ you _ that I’d miss you like crazy in an instant. It’d take all my effort not to get in the car and drive straight to Atlanta to make sure you were still alright.”

 

There’s a pregnant pause and Daryl lifts his head back up, finding Carol watching him with a frown. She says, “Do you understand why it’s so hard to forgive him?”

 

“I’ve understood since day one, baby, and I hate askin’ this of you, but…”

 

“But what?” Carol asks. Daryl bites his lip and considers his son slipping into sleep in his arms, and his daughter crawling around on the floor examining all of her surroundings with rapt interest. 

 

“‘Cause it’s important to me,” he says finally. “Not just ‘cause I wanna see if I can have somethin’ close to a normal sibling relationship with him, but ‘cause these two deserve to be loved by as many people as possible. And he does love ‘em, Carol. As hard as it is to believe some of the things he says, that’s one thing I take as fact.”

 

Carol leans back against the couch and rubs her face with her hands, sighing. She drops her arms like dead weights. “What if he fucks up?” she asks. “I don’t want to see you hurt like that again.”

 

“He ain’t gonna get me sent to the hospital with every relapse.”

 

“That’s not the kind of hurt I mean. I mean, what if he does really well for a while and you get the brother you’ve always wanted, and then he chooses the drugs again? It would crush you, Daryl, don’t even pretend it wouldn’t.” She huffs, shaking her head. “I’m the one who encouraged you to take a chance on him to begin with, and now I’m scared I should have never meddled.” 

 

“You was right, though,” Daryl says. “He got clean for them, and I know he fucked up real bad, but like...without the support what reasons does he got for stayin’ straight? The way he talks makes me think he’s just as desperate for family as I was. The problem is it took him too long to realize it, after he already tried fillin’ that hole with the drugs.” He searches her face and gives a helpless shrug. “He’s my brother, Carol.” At the end of the day, that’s what it boils down to.

 

Carol reaches up and pushes his bangs out of his eyes. She nods slowly.

 

“Okay,” she says. “Let’s try it.”

 

“Yeah?” Daryl asks, brightening. She smiles at the change in his demeanor. 

 

“Yeah,” she says. “But make sure he knows that he’s on thin fucking ice.”

 

Daryl snorts.

 

“Don’t think you gotta worry about that one, sweetheart, you scare the living shit outta him. He knows exactly where he stands with you.”

 

“He should be afraid of me,” Carol says. “I don’t put up with being fucked with. Especially when it concerns the people I love.”

 

“No you don’t,” Daryl agrees, looking at her with hearts in his eyes. “If there’s any one reason why he should stay clean, it’s ‘cause if he screws up like that again you might slit his throat in his sleep.”

 

Carol shrugs, unrepentant. She says,

 

“You can’t hurt what I care about most in this world and not expect consequences. I’m willing to give him a fair second chance, but I’m telling you now—boy better watch his step.”

 

—-

 

_ May 14th _

_ Sunday _

 

(10:06a) ~happy birthing pool!~

 

(10:06a) ~bismarck.~

 

(10:06a) ~beastiality.~

 

(10:06a) ~why? why is this my life? what god did i fail to appease?~

 

(10:11a) >I think it’s less you not appeasing god and more you being completely incompetent.<

 

(10:11a) >Anyway, happy birthday, Daryl! You’re officially no longer a teen parent!<

 

(10:12a) ~just an unwed one, but you’re working on that.~

 

(10:14a) -lol thnx-

 

(10:14a) - _ you sent a photo _ -

 

(10:14a) -carol made these n gave em 2 me as gifts from the kids-

 

(10:15a) >What are they? Clay molds of their hands and feet?<

 

(10:16a) -ya so when they get big i can look back n c how small they used 2 b-

 

(10:16a) -she made a card n said it was from them n it said a bunch of rly rly nice stuff it was gr8-

 

(10:16a) -shes awesome im rly glad i get 2 marry her in less thn 2 months-

 

(10:17a) >You guys are disgusting.<

 

(10:17a) ~currently vomiting in my mouth.~

 

(10:18a) - ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ -

 

(10:19a) >Rofl. Is Merle still coming over for supper tonight?<

 

(10:20a) -yep hope he lives-

 

(10:21a) ~carol’s still super excited about it, huh?~

 

(10:22a) -idk shes bein gud abt it but i dnt think itll be real easy 4 her 2 trust him again-

 

(10:22a) -which is fair idek if i trust him but i kno i wna try n she gets tht n is willing 2 try w/ me n thts as much as i can ask 4 after everything-

 

(10:23a) >You’re right, she is pretty awesome.<

 

(10:24a) -shes the best-

 

(10:25a) ~so is merle coming over gonna interrupt your traditional birthday visit to bonetown?~

 

(10:26a) -stop tlking 4ever-

 

(10:26a) -i didnt even mean 2 tell u abt tht last yr u asked n caught me off guard-

 

(10:27a) >K but y’all are having birthday sex, right?<

 

(10:27a) ~you have to, it's your two year anniversary of losing your virginity.~

 

(10:28a) -stfu??-

 

(10:29a) ~they totally are.~

 

(10:30a) > _ grp prjct rick changed the group name to “Birthday Sex, Birthday Sex, oh oh oh…” _ <

 

(10:31a) - _ you changed the group name to “kys” _ -

 

(10:32a) ~ _ dumbass changed the group name to “it’s my party and i’ll bone if i want to” _ ~

 

(10:33a) - _ you changed the group name to “drink bleach assholes” _ -

 

(10:34a) ~ _ dumbass changed the group name to “what about bleached assholes??” _ ~

 

(10:35a) - _ you changed the group name to “jfc u kno wut i meant” _ -

 

(10:36a) > _ grp prjct rick changed the group name to “Rofl, happy birthday, Daryl” _ <

 

(10:37a) ~ _ dumbass changed the group name to “Rolf happy birthday, Daryl luff u xoxo mwah!! <3  _ ~

 

(10:38a) -y do i tlk 2 either of u?-

 

(10:39a) ~because you don’t have any other friends?~

 

(10:40a) -o yeah-

 

(10:41a) >You’re stuck with us, brother.<

 

(10:42a) -w/e-

 

(10:42a) -cud b worse ig-

 

(10:42a) -still tho-

 

(10:42a) -fuk urselves-

 

(10:42a) -consider it a bday present-

 

(10:43a) ~hard pass but thanks anyway.~

 

(10:44a) -pfft n u call urselves friends-

 

—-

 

_ To Daddy, _

 

_ We’ve only been on this planet for 8 months, but we already know that we totally lucked out in the dad department. There’s no other man on Earth who would love us and take care of us the way you do. You take the time to play with us, even though most of our games are just chewing on things. You encourage us to learn and help us practice new things, even if it means we get into everything. You help out mommy so so so much, which means she hasn’t had to go back to the Crazy Person Hospital, which is lovely. _

 

_ But most of all you love us like crazy, and we may be little still but trust us when we say we know. That’s why we light up like Christmas trees whenever we see you, and why we cry when you’re gone too long. You are the best daddy we could have ever hoped for, and we have insider info that mommy is really happy she made babies with you. _

 

_ Happy birthday, daddy. You always say we mean the world to you. Well you mean the world to us right back. _

 

_ Love, _

_ Josie, Jesse, and our ghost writer _

 

_ Oh, and Henry too! _

 

_ P.S. Mommy says that just cuz it’s your birthday, don’t think you’re off diaper duty. Just FYI. _

 

_ xoxo _

 

—-

 

“‘Kay, I need you guys to do me a huge favor, alright? I need y’all to be willing to run interference.”

 

Using his crib for balance, Jesse stands on both feet, wobbling and babbling a few syllables in response to Daryl, while his sister leans back against Daryl’s chest, sucking down a bottle, while the two of them sit in the nursery room rocking chair.

 

“Dinner might end up bein’ real awkward, ‘cause your Uncle Merle is kinda on the top of your momma’s shitlist, so you’ll need to act real cute and—yo, careful JJ,” Daryl says when Jesse tries letting go of the crib and falls down on his butt. Unfazed, he pulls himself right back up. “Gettin’ good at that, kid, pretty soon you’re gonna be walkin’—pro’ly better than me at this rate.”

 

“Lalada la baba ba,” Jesse says.

 

“Yeah, you’re right, I gotta be more positive.The three of us can learn to walk together. Real sick of this cane, though, ain’t gonna lie.”

 

“Ma,” Josie says, taking the bottle out of her mouth and tilting her head back to see Daryl’s upside down face. Daryl pants a kiss on her forehead, making her scrunch her nose.

 

“Thanks for the encouragement, baby girl.”

 

Satisfied, Josie turns her attention away from Daryl and goes back to snacking. 

 

“Okay, but seriously, y’all gotta be on my side tonight. We need your uncle to feel motivated to lay off the dope, and we need your momma to feel motivated to not shoot your uncle point blank in the face, and I hate to put pressure on y’all, but you two are gonna hafta be the buffer. The one thing momma and Uncle Merle got in common is that they love the shit outta you, so ham it up as much as possible, alright? Throw some smiles around, Jojo, and JJ, today’s the day to be as extra as you want.”

 

Jesse falls on his ass again trying to take a tentative step, and Josie burps.

 

“It’ll be okay, right? A lil’ weird maybe, but in the end we’re family...Though, before you two and your momma, bein’ family never meant shit.”

 

“Dadadada,” Jesse says, and Josie adds a wise, “La.”

 

Daryl nods.

 

“Y’all are right as usual,” he says. “The past is the past. What matters is that it means somethin’ now.” He sighs, rocking the chair slowly. “Just hope we can get through the night with no casualties. The bar we gotta cross is practically on the ground, but I still got doubts. Tell you what, though? No matter what happens, this is my best birthday so far. Know why?”

 

Jesse gives up on standing and tries licking the crib. Josie, tired of her bottle, chucks it on the ground.

 

“Exactly. Fuck all that other drama. This day is already perfect, ‘cause it’s my first birthday with you.” 

 

—-

 

The knock on the door comes a quarter to six. The whole house smells like the roast Carol’s been working on all afternoon—it’s her peace offering, Daryl knows, her way of showing that she’s willing to put effort into this, and Daryl loves her even more for it. Daryl takes ahold of his cane and gives Carol a tight smile from where he’s helping her in the kitchen, and limps his way to the living room to let in their guest.

 

“Happy birthday, baby brother!” Merle says the moment the door swings open, beaming. He wraps his arms around Daryl, nearly knocking the wind out of him.

 

“Watch it, you’re gonna make me lose my balance,” he grumbles. Merle pulls back, unremorseful. Daryl glances over his brother’s shoulder and sees a man in a white car waving brightly out of the rolled down window. Merle follows Daryl’s gaze and grunts.

 

“That’s the roommate I been tellin’ you about,” Merle says under his breath. “Real self-righteous pain in the ass, but I gotta get my license renewed ‘fore I can get back on the bike and the dude offered me a ride without me even havin’ to ask, so I can’t talk too much shit on him.”

 

Maybe it’s the anxiety about the impending dinner with just the three of them with no buffer besides two eight month olds who can’t be relied upon to fill any awkward silences due to being, well, eight month’s old, or perhaps it’s a moment of pure insanity, but the next words out of Daryl’s mouth are,

 

“Invite him in to have supper with us.”

 

Merle looks at Daryl he’s sprouting mushrooms out of his ears. But then, after a beat, his demeanor shifts, and Daryl suspects his brother may have the same trepidations about facing Carol head on.

 

“Uh,” he says. “You sure?”

 

“Yeah,” Daryl says, because he can’t take it back  _ now _ .

 

“The missus won’t mind?”

 

“Ain’t the missus just yet, and nah, it’s chill. Plenty of food, too.”

 

Merle’s roommate is watching this exchange with a cheerful, yet somewhat unsettling smile, likely waiting for Merle to wave him off. Instead, Merle clears his throat and hollers over, “Hey, Gabriel! You wanna stay for supper?”

 

Gabriel seems surprised by the offer, but it only takes him a second to nod in agreement. He rolls up the window and kills the ignition. 

 

“Remember this was your idea,” Merle mutters to Daryl.

 

“How bad can he be?” Daryl mutters back. He is not encouraged by Merle’s snort.

 

Gabriel is an average looking black man with a perpetual smile that Daryl finds uncomfortable. Their unexpected guest walks up to the stoop where Merle and Daryl are standing and thrusts his hand out at Daryl.

 

“Hello, I’m Gabriel. Merle’s told me all about you,” he says brightly. Daryl takes his hand for a brief second while casting a raised eyebrow at Merle.

 

“Yeah? How bad’s he made me look?”

 

“Oh, not bad at all. He’s always talking about how responsible you’ve turned out to be, and what a great parent you are,” says Gabriel. Daryl raises  _ both _ eyebrows at Merle, who rolls his eyes.

 

“Guy must got hearing problems. Don’t go thinkin’ I’m sittin’ around waxin’ poetic about you, baby brother. Now are you gonna let us in, or is your girl gonna hook me up to the dog chain and make me eat outta his food dish?”

 

“I dunno, she had me set a plate out for you, so I’m guessin’ you got inside privileges so far,” Daryl says, and Merle laughs. Daryl smiles a little too, and leads them into the house.

 

“You have a lovely home,” Gabriel says, looking around the living room that’s not filthy, but is cluttered with baby things. 

 

“Uh, thanks,” Daryl says. They have, at most, a tolerable home. 

 

“Where are the kids?” Merle asked, peeking over at the playmat on the ground by the couch and frowning when they aren’t there.

 

“In the kitchen with Carol. We can go say hi,” Daryl says. At Merle’s grimace, he adds, “You ain’t gonna be able to avoid her forever, so we might as well get it outta the way.” 

 

Conceding defeat, Merle huffs a sigh and nods. If Gabriel is confused by whatever seems to be going on between Merle and Carol he doesn’t say so, and it makes Daryl wonder just how open his brother has become about his personal life. As closed lipped as Daryl used to be, Merle has always been worse, but maybe that’s not as true anymore. Daryl doesn’t ask, and neither Merle nor Gabriel offers, so he lets it be and instead takes them to the kitchen.

 

At the sound of their approach, Carol looks up from the roast she’s basting. Her eyes land on Merle, and her expression is a weird situation where she’s scowling but trying not to, until she notices Gabriel behind him and then she’s just straight up confused. 

 

“Hi, who are you?” she says asks sweetly.

 

“I’m Gabriel, Merle’s roommate. You must be Daryl’s fiancee, Carol. I must say, Merle’s said you were lovely, but words alone don’t do you justice.”

 

Carol casts Daryl some serious ‘what the fuck?’ eyes, and Daryl mouths, ‘I’ll explain later.’ She seems doubtful, but doesn’t question him in front of their guests. Instead she puts on a smile—somewhere between her real one and her fake one—and says to Gabriel, “That’s very kind of you to say. Are you joining us for supper?”

 

“Daryl was nice enough to invite me, but of course I don’t want to impose—”

 

“No, no worries, there’s plenty for all of us. We’ll just set a fourth place on the table.” She doesn’t seem angry at the new addition, so much as bemused, so Daryl absolves himself of any guilt. Introduction out of the way, the inevitable can no longer be put off, and Carol finally meets Merle’s eye. Merle clears his throat.

 

“Hey,” he says quietly. Carol regards him, looking him up and down, as if searching for any signs that he’s fallen off the wagon and is trying to hide it from her. She seems to come to a conclusion and nods.

 

“Hi,” she says back, not as coolly as it could be. 

 

“Um,” Merle says, rubbing the nape of his neck with his hand. “Can I…” He nods at the pack-n-play on the other side of the room where the twins are playing together. Carol chews on her lower lip for a moment.

 

“Go ahead,” she says finally. “I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you.” 

 

Merle lets some tension out of his shoulders before heading over to the pack-n-play. He peers over the side and breaks into a huge grin. Daryl goes over to stand beside his brother, looking down at his kids.

 

“Y’all remember your Uncle Merle?” he asks the twins. The two of them look up in unison. 

 

“Bababa,” Jesse says to Merle politely, watching him curiously, but Josie’s reaction is much more dramatic. A smile spreads across her face, matching her uncle’s, as she crawls to the edge of the pack-n-play and pulls herself up into a standing position. 

 

“Ma!” she tells him, and Merle laughs.

 

“Well hello to you too, pretty lady,” he says, reaching out to squeeze her cheek. Jesse, not wanting to be left out, butt-scoots over and stands up as well, and Merle is delighted. “And there’s my lil’ man. How the heck have you two been? Last time I saw you, you was tiny lil’ things, and look at you now, standin’ up and everything.” To Daryl he asks, “Can they walk yet? When can babies walk?”

 

“They ain’t walkin’ yet, ‘though JJ’s threatenin’ to.”

 

“We think he might skip crawling entirely and go straight to walking,” Carol says from behind them. Merle and Daryl look at her. She’s leaning against the counter with her arms crossed, wetting her bottom lip. She nods at Merle and adds, “Go ahead and hold ‘em. Seems like they want you to.”

 

Merle, clearly unsure on how to address Carol, nods silently and reaches over and puts his hands under Josie’s armpits to scoop her up. Josie beams at him and reaches out to touch his face. Merle kisses her fingers, bouncing her lightly in his arms.

 

“Wanna hand me the other one,” he asks Daryl. Daryl picks up Jesse and helps Merle juggle both babies in his arms.

 

“Dadada la babala da,” Jesse says to his uncle. “Baba lala lala la la.”

 

“That so?” Merle laughs. “This kid always talk so much?” he asks Daryl.

 

“Normally it’s worse,” Daryl says, grinning at his son and playing with one of his tiny, socked feet. “Oh, hey Gabriel,” suddenly remembering Gabriel exists. “Uh, these are our kids.” 

 

“Jojo and JJ, right?” Gabriel asks.

 

“Josie and Jesse are their actual names,” Carol says. “Jojo and JJ is what Daryl calls them...And Merle apparently.” 

 

“I can call ‘em Josie and Jesse,” Merle says quickly, and Carol smiles.

 

“It’s okay to give them nicknames, I won’t be mad at you for it,” she says, almost pityingly. “Here, you wanna take them into the other room and you and Gabriel can entertain them at the table while Daryl and I get everything together?” 

 

“‘Course,” Merle says. Daryl’s pretty sure Carol could have said, ‘Go out on the street butt naked and try to hitchhike to Florida,’ and Merle would have complied without a second thought. 

 

Merle takes the twins out of the room with Gabiel at his heel. Daryl can hear him introducing them to each other, and he thinks he hears him say something to the effect of, “...best kids you’ll ever meet in your life.” Once they’re out of earshot, Daryl turns to Carol and immediately apologizes.

 

“Dude was just sitting out there and I thought it might help to have an extra person here to keep things civil so I sort of just invited him without thinkin’ about it.”

 

“Baby, it’s fine,” Carol says, holding up her hand. “Honestly, it probably wasn’t a bad idea on your part. Although your brother seems anxious as hell.”

 

“I’m tellin’ you, he wants your approval real bad. He’ll be your bitch for a good long while.”

 

“Mm, I’ll try not to abuse it,” she says. “He looks good. Healthy.”

 

“Even better than when he got outta the pen. Can’t believe he’s livin’ with that dude. Only friends Merle’s ever had have been low-lifes and druggies. Hell, he ain’t even said anything racist about him yet.”

 

Carol barks a laugh.

 

“I suppose the night is young,” she says. 

 

“True.” He nudges her shoulder with his. “Hey. Thank you for doin’ this for me.”

 

“You’re welcome,” she says. “Did you see how the kids lit up when they saw him? Especially Josie? You’re right, they need as much family as they can get. I’m willing to try.  _ Really _ try, as long as he does, too.”

 

“Love you somethin’ awful, you know that?” Daryl asks, brushing her cheek with the back of his hand. She leans into his touch and smiles.

 

“You better,” she says. “‘Cause I spent the whole day cooking for someone I’m pissed off at, and I did it for you. I’m amazing.”

 

“Damn straight,” Daryl agrees wholeheartedly. “You’re the best one there is.”

 

—-

 

“Shall we say grace?” Gabriel asks. Everyone stares at him.

 

They four of them are sat around the table, with Josie by Merle in her high chair, and Jesse by Daryl in his. Carol has her impressive spread of food laid out on the table and dished out on the plates, and Daryl already has a fork in his hand, but pauses. He can’t remember the last time he said grace. He’s not sure if he ever has.

 

“They really ain’t the type, Gabe,” Merle mutters, but Carol interjects, saying,

 

“No, it’s fine. We can...do that.” She clears her throat. “How do we do that?” 

 

“Let’s join hands,” says Gabriel, holding his right hand out to Carol and his left to Merle. Both of them hesitate, but they’re in it now. Daryl watches Carol exchange a suppressed grin with Merle as they take Gabriel’s offered hands. Carol grabs Jesse’s, as does Daryl. He and Merle take hold of Josie’s hands, and Jesse looks confused, meanwhile Josie looks annoyed because she had been trying to eat a mashed up potato, some of which is now in Daryl’s hand from where she had been grabbing it by the fistfull. 

 

The four of them all sit awkwardly while Gabriel gives a long-winded thanks to the Almighty for the food, new friends, healthy babies, his sobriety, Merles sobriety, yada yada, Daryl tunes out the last bit. 

 

“Amen,” Gabriel says finally. There’s a muted mumble of ‘amen’ in response, and that seems to be permission for them to eat. Daryl wipes Josie’s potato off his hand before taking a bite of his roast.

 

“Real good, babe,” he says with his mouth full. 

 

“Yeah, way better than them frozen dinners I throw in the microwave at home,” Merle adds, mouth also full because the two of them learned manners in the same house.

 

“I told you that you’re always welcome to sit and eat supper with me,” Gabriel says, and Merle huffs.

 

“Thanks but no thanks, man. You’d make me do that grace thing every time, and I like you well enough, but there ain’t no way I’m holdin’ hands with you alone at our kitchen table.” 

 

Carol snorts and covers it up with a cough.

 

“Thank you for the compliments,” she says, trying to distract from her lapse. 

 

“Gabe here said he’s thinkin’ of goin’ full priest on me,” Merle says with an eye roll. “Wants to go through the school and everything. Thinks it’s his calling. Keep tellin’ him women are a way better callin’.”

 

“I told you my sect doesn’t forbid marriage,” Gabriel says.

 

“You put a white collar on you might as well put the chastity belt on, too,” Merle says. “Only women who’ll go after a priest are gonna be into some real freaky shit.”

 

Daryl glances over at Carol and sees her turning red from trying not to laugh. She looks at him out of the corner of her eye and he smirks at her. She takes a drink of Diet Coke to compose herself and kicks Daryl from under the table.

 

“Clearly my influence on your brother’s beliefs have been minimal,” Gabriel tells Daryl. “May I ask if you two are affiliated with any religion?”

 

“Uh,” Daryl starts, but without skipping a beat, Carol says,

 

“We’re Duoists.” 

 

Gabriel blinks, and Daryl chokes on a piece of carrot.

 

“I don’t think I’ve heard of that,” Gabriel says. 

 

“It’s a pretty obscure sect,” Carol says seriously. “But it’s become more popular over time.” 

 

Daryl focuses intently on helping Jesse eat torn up pieces of his dinner roll.

 

“What are the core beliefs?” asks Gabriel. Daryl glances over to see Gabriel looking interested, and Merle looking amused, not sure what Carol is going on about, but knowing bullshit when he hears it.

 

“It’s really about creating international connections,” Carol says thoughtfully, gesturing with her fork, a chunk of potato speared on it. “It puts a lot of emphasis on communication. A sort of, ‘we’re all on this Earth together, we should learn to understand one another.’” 

 

“So less of a focus on a deity and more on interpersonal connections in the mortal world?” 

 

“Yeah, something like that, although we do worship a God. Same sort of idea of them being all-knowing, all-powerful, etc. We just call God something different.”

 

“What do you call God?” Gabriel asks, fascinated.

 

“Do you speak French?” Carol asks.

 

“Not anymore than hello and goodbye.”

 

“It’s of French origin. God is  _ La Chouette _ .” 

 

Daryl gives Carol the most deadpan expression he can muster.

 

_ La Chouette. _

 

_ The Owl. _

 

“I’ll have to look into this. I’m always excited to learn about other beliefs. I don’t think you can be a good priest without understanding where others are coming from.”

 

Josie chooses that moment to chuck potato at Merle. Taking advantage of the distraction, Daryl leans in and whispers to Carol, “I can’t believe I’m marrying you.” She merely smiles.

 

Gabriel appears oblivious to this exchange, but Merle smirks their way while wiping potato off his shirt. He winks at Carol, and, to Daryl’s surprise, Carol winks right back.

 

—-

 

“Hey, Merle, help me put the twins the bed, will you?” Carol says. Supper and dessert have both ended. All hands were on deck clearing the table, and now Carol is hoisting a sleepy Jesse into her arms and nods at Merle to pick up an equally drowsy Josie. Merle looks suspicious, not sure why he’s being singled out for this task. He looks to Daryl for help, but he has none to offer him, because he’s not sure what Carol is up to either. It’s not like he can object, so Merle does as he says, and follows Carol and Jesse to the nursery, Josie cradled in his arms.

 

Daryl is alone in the living room with Gabriel.

 

No thanks, he thinks.

 

“You alright if I go see if they need my help?” he asks Gabriel. 

 

“Oh, not a problem,” Gabriel says with his unsettling smile. Daryl tries to return the gesture, but he’s pretty sure his smile comes out as a grimace as he limps towards the nursery. He gets to the door, but he doesn’t go inside. Instead, he leans against the wall and listens.

 

“I haven’t completely forgiven you yet,” Carol is saying.

 

“I know,” says Merle. Daryl briefly feels bad for eavesdropping, but curiosity gets the best of him.

 

“I want to, though,” Carol continues. “And I think that, with a little more time, I’ll be able to.” 

 

“I’ll do whatever to get back in your good graces.”

 

“I hope that’s true. Let’s do this again, okay? See each other a little more often and see if we can’t rebuild some of that trust. And do you remember what I told you that first time I met you? I told you that if you felt yourself slipping that I wanted you to call me. I still mean that, okay? I want you to call me and let me talk some sense into you before you go fucking everything up again. I’m not here to punish you for your past, but I need you to be responsible for your future.”

 

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

“I also have a question for you.”

 

“What’s that, darlin’?”

 

“Will you come to my wedding?” 

 

Daryl can hear the smile in Merle’s voice when he says, “Ain’t nothin’ I wanna do more, sweetheart. I’ll be there.”

 

“Good, then we’ll save you a place. But Merle?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“This is my one warning. You do anything to mess with Daryl, you hurt him at all, you better sleep with one eye open. You hear me?”

 

“Loud and clear.” 

 

“Alright, then. Now change this one’s diaper. I’m pretty sure she shit herself.”

 

Daryl grins to himself before limping back to the living room to sit in awkward silence with Gabriel.

 

—-

 

Daryl is lying in bed, eyes shut, listening to Carol wrangle Henry into his cage and tell him goodnight. His social tolerance meter is at zero, and he’s reveling in how much more comfortable his house is without all the extraneous  _ people _ in it. A few minutes later he feels Carol come in and crawl into bed beside him. She straddles his hips and starts rubbing his shoulders, and he smiles, blinking his eyes open.

 

“Hey,” he says softly.

 

“Hello,” she says, leaning down to give him a kiss. She sits back up and continues with her massage. He traces lines up and down her thighs. 

 

“Dinner went okay?” He poses it as a question.

 

“I think so. Gabriel is weird as fuck, but he’s nice enough.”

 

“Yeah, if there’s any proof that Merle is serious about his sobriety, it’s that he’s living with that guy.” 

 

“I’m feeling better about your brother, too. Not perfect, mind you, but I’m getting there. I invited him to the wedding.”

 

“I know.” At her furrowed brow, he says, “I heard you talking to him.”

 

“Ah, you were eavesdropping,” she says, slapping him playfully on the chest. He shrugs, but doesn’t deny it. She doesn’t seem too bothered. “It’ll be good to have him there. And even if it all gets fucked up somehow, what matters is that we get those papers signed and then go somewhere far away from everyone for a good week.”

 

“We need to figure out where we’re goin’ with that money from your aunt. It’s a smart idea to use it for a honeymoon, but at this rate we ain’t gonna go anywhere if we can’t choose somethin’.”

 

“I know, but you’re so picky.”

 

“ _ I’m _ picky?” Daryl laughs. “You said no to every place I suggested.”

 

“Okay, but you suggested Cleaveland, Ohio.” 

 

“It looked like a nice place!” 

 

“Oh my God, you’re ridiculous,” Carol says, kissing him again. “You’re right, we’re never gonna pick a place.”

 

“Maybe,” he says against her lips. “Definitely not gonna pick one tonight, though. Don’t feel like talkin’ about that.”

 

“No?” Carol says, smirking, not pulling back. “Wanna talk about your brother’s redemption some more?”

 

“Nope. Sure as hell don’t wanna talk about him,” Daryl says, letting his hands wander up her sides and under her shirt.

 

“Mm, so what do you wanna talk about?” she asks, pressing her lips to the space just below his ear.

 

“Don’t wanna do no talkin’,” he says quietly. He starts to push her shirt up to take it off, when suddenly Jesse starts crying through the baby monitor. The two of them still, snorting at one another. 

 

“To be continued,” Carol says, climbing off of Daryl.

 

“And the guys thought Merle would be the cockblock,” Daryl muters. Carol gives him a bemused smile.

 

“What was that?” she asks.

 

“Nothin’,” Daryl says quickly. “You want me to get the kid?” 

 

“Nah,” Carol says. “You lay there and think of all the things we’re gonna do once I get your son to go the fuck to sleep.”

 

“We don’t gotta do nothin’, you know,” he tells her, but his body says that’s a dumb thing to say. 

 

“Of course we do, it’s your birthday,” Carol says, a wicked smile on her lips. “It’s tradition.”

 

Daryl settles back against the pillows as Carol heads to the nursery.

 

He can’t argue with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for those of you have seen s9, that haircut scene where daryl scrunches his face up when carol's brushing hair off of him--that's the face i imagine josie making every time i write that she scrunches her nose.
> 
> anyway!
> 
> god it's been forever. i'm sorry. i got thrown off my groove, and then the trailer happened and everything got overwhelming, and #yikes. i'll tell you what tho, we got three chapters to go after this one, and sunday's chapter (and i am gonna try rly rly hard to have it actually up by sunday) is gonna be So Fun to write. (want a spoiler? four words: team groupchat bachelor's party) 
> 
> things are winding down, but there's still excitement to go. also, if that's not how you say owl in french, blame duolingo, bc that's what duo said, and i don't question my lord and savior.
> 
> see you sunday for a fun and also Important chapter. 
> 
> love u all and ur continued patience,  
> -diz


	30. Like Never Before

_ June 4th _

_ Sunday _

 

(12:34p) ~okay, we're t-minus one month away from wedding central and there's still so much to do. do you have your checklist, daryl?~

 

(12:42p) -no i 4got 2 write down wut all u told me-

 

(12:43p) ~???? you told me you wrote it in a notebook.~

 

(12:45p) -ik i lied-

 

(12:45p) -it was so many things-

 

(12:46p) ~you're the worst. i'm gonna tell carol how little effort you're putting into planning this wedding.~

 

(12:49p) -i told her u said tht n she said she thot u were taking care of everything n also her aunt gave her a checklist 2 n she lost it-

 

(12:50p) ~you're gonna give me an aneurysm.~

 

(12:52p) >Hi, this is entertaining, I'm glad I get to watch and don't have to participate.<

 

(12:53p) ~wrong, i have a task for you.~

 

(12:54p) >But I don't want one.<

 

(12:55p) ~tough. since the bride and groom are insufferable, lazy turds, i need to pawn something off on you.~

 

(12:55p) ~you're in charge of the bachelor party.~

 

(12:56p) -ew wut no-

 

(12:56p) -i dnt like parties-

 

(12:56p) >And I don't like having to do stuff.<

 

(12:57p) ~bachelor party is just what it's called, but really it'll just be the three of us having a last hurrah before you become a married man.~

 

(12:58p) -how tf will our friendship b any different whn im married?-

 

(12:58p) -me having kids was a way bigger change n tht was fine-

 

(12:58p) -we dnt need a last hurrah-

 

(12:58p) -esp not a party-

 

(12:59p) >That settles it then.<

 

(1:00p) ~no it doesn't. daryl we're throwing you a bachelor party, it's tradition.~

 

(1:01p) -but thts dumb-

 

(1:02p) ~no butts.~

 

(1:03p) >Not a single butt allowed. If you have a butt, do not interact.<

 

(1:04p) ~can you not?~

 

(1:05p) >Sorry, I don't mean to make you the butt of the joke.<

 

(1:06p) ~you're hilarious. you know it was autocorrect.~

 

(1:07p) >Don't worry, Glenn, we'll get to the bottom of your autocorrect woes. Can we offer any ASSistance?<

 

(1:08p) ~oh my god, shut up, we have stuff to do.~

 

(1:08p) ~like the menu. daryl, you still haven't told me what you guys want for food at the reception.~

 

(1:09p) -rump roast-

 

(1:10p) >Rofllllll<

 

(1:10p) ~ -.- ~

 

(1:10p) ~i quit, i refuse to be your wedding planner.~

 

(1:11p) -u cant quit me n carol r bad @ it-

 

(1:12p) ~then behave yourself and do what i tell you to do.~

 

(1:13p) -ugh fine-

 

(1:14p) >Yeah, get your head in the game, Daryl. Quit being a bum.<

 

(1:15p) ~ _ dumbass blocked grp prjct rick _ ~

 

(1:15p) ~much better.~

 

(1:15p) ~now let's talk wardrobe.~

 

(1:16p) -mb u shud just block me 2-

 

—-

 

_ June 10th _

_ Saturday _

 

(2:59p) *Hi, remind me why I thought this was a good idea?*

 

(3:02p) -lol hows dress shopping going?-

 

(3:07p) *So remember how I told my aunt I just need something nice and Glenn-approved to wear and nothing fancy, because this is super low key and also in like three weeks so we wouldn't have time to tailor a dress anyway?*

 

(3:08p) -i rmbr yes-

 

(3:09p) *Well in a strange twist of events, orchestrated by my well-meaning but somewhat exhausting aunt, I am currently at a wedding dress boutique with auntie, Michonne, and Maggie.*

 

(3:09p) *Apparently auntie set up an appointment for me here bc she wants me to "have the full wedding experience" and thinks there's no way I'm chill with just going to Target.*

 

(3:09p) *Bitch, I love Target!*

 

(3:09p) *She said her favorite part of her marriages was planning the weddings, which may be a contributing factor in why they both ended in divorce, but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ *

 

(3:12p) -so r u @ one of those stores like on ur weird tlc show?-

 

(3:14p) *I am.*

 

(3:14p) *Pretty sure the $50 I was gonna drop on a dress would buy me like, a quarter of a veil here, if it were on clearance.*

 

(3:15p) -did u tell ur aunt we have no $?-

 

(3:16p) *Yup, and guess who offered to buy it, after paying for our entire honeymoon?*

 

(3:19p) -no stop tell her she cant tht makes me anxious-

 

(3:21p) *Same. Her argument was "your actual wedding will be incredibly cheap so you've gotta splurge a /little/!"*

 

(3:21p) *Auntie, that lace top dress you said would be cute cost $3000.*

 

(3:22p) -tht made me throw up in my mouth a lil-

 

(3:23p) *Right??? I'm trying to go into this kicking and screaming, but she let me have some wine before we left her house and I think it was intentional bc she knew I'd fight her on this.*

 

(3:24p) -stay strong n rmbr tht ur setting the bar 4 how nice i have 2 look n i dnt rly kno how 2 wear fancy clothes-

 

(3:28p) *Ha! Yeah, about that, she said she wants Glenn's number so she can make sure all the plans and aesthetics match.*

 

(3:28p) *Maybe we should have eloped.*

 

(3:29p) -we're literally getting married on a hill in the woods w/ like less thn 10 ppl how is this still so complicated?-

 

(3:30p) *Idk but I'm about to try on a dress that's two times our rent and I'm kind of afraid to touch it bc what if it rips or something?*

 

(3:31p) -i think my most expensive piece of clothing is like $20-

 

(3:39p) * _ carol sent a photo _ *

 

(3:39p) *This is what I'd look like if I were in the one percent.*

 

(3:42p) -...oh-

 

(3:43p) *Lmfao, wtf does that mean?*

 

(3:44p) -nthn just-

 

(3:44p) -u kno-

 

(3:45p) *I genuinely do not.*

 

(3:46p) -ur just rly beautiful-

 

(3:47p) *You secretly got expensive taste, huh?*

 

(3:48p) -lol no thts not it-

 

(3:48p) -u looking like a bride just got me feeling sum type of way ig-

 

(3:48p) -like we've been so annoyed w/ stupid wedding planning tht i 4got tht by the end of it i get u as a wife-

 

(3:48p) -a super pretty wife-

 

(3:48p) -pretty even if her dress is from target-

 

(3:51p) *If you're trying to get yourself laid you're doing a really good job of it.*

 

(3:52p) -tht wasnt my goal but im not saying no-

 

(3:53p) *The best part of this whole stupid wedding thing will be when everyone is gone and the kids are asleep and you and I get to be alone for the first time as husband and wife.*

 

(3:54p) -lol i get it but its rly funny tht ur saying the best part of our wedding will b whn its over-

 

(3:54p) -i mean ur rite but lmfao-

 

(3:55p) *Lol! You know what I mean, tho? Like, planning this is exhausting, but at the end of the day I'm kind of excited and I kind of like being Extra(™) about something materialistic, and I'll wear the fancy dress, and we can eat a fancy cake, but the important part is everything that comes after.*

 

(3:55p) *Like, the wedding is for our family to celebrate us, and for us it's huge to even have family that loves us enough to want to be a part of this, but this is for them. Our life together is /our/ celebration.*

 

(3:56p) *I am typing all of this in a dressing room, I'm supposed to be trying on this dress.*

 

(3:57p) -lmao ilu-

 

(3:58p) *I love you too. Now excuse me while I go play irl "Say Yes to the Dress".*

 

(3:59p) -try n have fun-

 

(4:00p) *I will.*

 

(4:00p) *It's all so ridiculous, but what the fuck, right?*

 

(4:00p) *Our whole lives have been ridiculous. At least this is ridiculous in a nice way, cuz it sure as hell isn't always that way.*

 

(4:01p) -nah-

 

(4:01p) -but on the whole i think we come out on the winning side-

 

(4:02p) *The sum of our parts is something so magnificently weird and loving that we can't be with anyone but each other.*

 

(4:03p) -wudnt wnt 2 even if we cud-

 

(4:03p) -now stop putting off trying on the dress theyre gonna think u died in there-

 

(4:04p) *Lmfao, you know me well, sir.*

 

(4:04p) *See you in a bit.*

 

(4:05p) -looking forward 2 it-

 

(4:05p) -i always do-

 

—- 

 

_ June 16th _

_ Friday _

 

“So what are we doin’ for your stag party?” Merle asks, sitting on the floor holding Josie by the hands, helping her balance. He moves his hands away slowly and Josie stays standing for a good three seconds before plopping down onto the ground. “Hey, good effort, lil’ lady. You’re gonna get there real soon.”

 

“We ain’t doin’ nothin’ for my stag party ‘cause I ain’t havin’ one, I’m still tryna convince the guys to stop plannin’ one,” Daryl says, keeping an eye on Jesse, who’s using the couch to cruise around. “You’re makin’ me nervous, kid, I’m movin’ this table. Momma don’t need to come home to you with a cracked noggin’.” He scoots the coffee table away from the baby just in time, as Jesse goes tumbling to the ground just like his sister.

 

“God they sure as fuck fall down a lot, huh?” Merle says, helping Josie back to her feet.

 

“Apparently it’s normal but it scares the shit outta me,” says Daryl. It goes against every dad instinct he has to let his kids learn by falling. 

 

“Eh, they’re basically made of rubber, they’re fine,” Merle says dismissively. “But anyway, you’re definitely havin’ a stag party. You ain’t tyin’ yourself up for life without one last hurrah.”

 

“What is it with y’all with this ‘last hurrah’ shit? Y’all make it sound like I spent my time before Carol bein’ like, slutty or somethin’.” 

 

Merle chokes on his spit and says, “ _ Slutty _ ?”

 

“You know what I mean,” Daryl says with an eye roll. “I don’t need to do that stupid celebration of my freedom, or whatever. I ain’t gettin’ locked up.”

 

“God, you’re so high-strung. That’s just how people talk. Don’t worry, we all know you’re all heart eyes over your woman, but you still gotta have a party. I won’t let you not.”

 

“You won’t let me, huh? Dude, JJ, I moved the table so you  _ wouldn’t _ be around it,” Daryl says, as Jesse butt scoots to the coffee table and pulls himself up with it. To Merle he adds, “Even if I did let y’all talk me into it, Glenn’s already got Rick dealin’ with it. ”

 

“You ain’t serious. You got that wannabe cop and that Chinese kid plannin’ your bachelor party?” Merle says, scrunching his nose in disgust.

 

“Insultin’ my friends ain’t the best way to get back into my good graces,” Daryl points out. “And he’s Korean, not Chinese.” 

 

“Korean, whatever, sorry. Look, I’m sure they’re good dudes, but even you gotta admit that they’re, you know, nerds.” 

 

“No they ain’t.”

 

“Yeah? Why couldn’t you meet up for supper yesterday again?”

 

Daryl cringes.

 

“...’Cause it was game night.”

 

“That alone is bad enough, but remind me, what game was it?”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“No, my memory’s failin’ me, what was it?” 

 

“...D&D, fuck off.” 

 

“Mm,” Merle hums. “What do you think, kiddos, should I let your daddy’s stag party get planned by a couple nerds, or should I give him a real party?”  

 

“Dadadadada,” Jesse says enthusiastically, bouncing up and down on his chubby legs.

 

“My thoughts exactly, sir,” Merle says. 

 

“That was him sayin’ no,” Daryl says.

 

“Nah, it sounded like agreement to me.”

 

“I spend more time with ‘em, I know what they’re talkin’ about better than you. ‘Sides, it don’t matter one way or another, ‘cause this whole wedding shit is up to Glenn and Carol’s aunt and he’s got Rick on bachelor party duty, which I’m still gonna try and get out of anyway. So nice try, but let it go.”

 

“Yeah, alright,” Merle says like someone who has no intention of letting it go. Daryl huffs. Just then, Josie crawls over to the coffee table and pulls herself up and, without warning, decides she wants to be where Jesse’s standing and knocks him over. Jesse hits his cheek on the side of the table on the way down and there’s a beat of tense silence before he bursts into devastated wails. 

 

“The fuck, Jojo?” Daryl says, swooping in to check on Jesse. Jesse looks up at him with a crumpled face, lower lip pouting and thick tears streaming down his squishy cheeks. He holds his arms out to Daryl, and Daryl picks him up and cradles him to his chest. 

 

“She straight up just pushed him down,” Merle says, sounding almost impressed, looking at Josie, who’s reaching for a junk mail catalogue they’d tossed onto the table and starts crumpling it up in her hands happily. 

 

“Yeah, what the hell?” Daryl says, frowning at the bruise already forming on Jesse’s cheek. A tiny bit of blood beads out of the battle wound.

 

“Older sibling syndrome,” Merle says knowingly.

 

“She’s older by ten minutes, that hardly counts.”

 

“Don’t matter, it’s instinct; older siblings got it in their blood. How many times did I beat on you for no reason?” 

 

“All the damn time, but you was a douchebag,” Daryl says, standing up and holding Jesse flush against him, rubbing his back. “Shh shh, it’ll be okay,” he whispers to his son.

 

“Yeah, ‘cause I was older than you. Somethin’ about lookin’ at your younger sibling makes you wanna fuck with ‘em. Get used to it, bro. This lil lady’s startin’ early. They’ll be at each other’s throats before you know it.” 

 

Josie glances over at where Jesse is crying and stuffs the catalogue into her mouth unapologetically. Daryl narrows his eyes at her.

 

“Don’t hurt your brother,” he scolds her. He knows she doesn’t understand, but he’d still swear on his life that she shrugs. He sighs. “Will you make sure she don’t eat that, Imma go take him and get some ice for his face.” To the baby sobbing in his arms, he says, “So much for no bloodshed before momma gets home, huh?” He places a comforting kiss on Jesse’s temple as he heads towards the kitchen. From behind him he hears Merle tell Josie,

 

“If you’re gonna fuck with your baby brother you gotta do it when no one’s watchin’. That’s how you get away with it.” 

 

“It could be worse, sweetheart,” Daryl whispers to Jesse. “At least you don’t got Merle for a brother.” 

 

“Bababa,” Jesse says miserably in a watery voice. Daryl nods sympathetically, opening the freezer and getting out the ice tray.

 

“I get it,” he says. “But I promise older siblings have their good moments, too...Sometimes.”

 

Jesse pouts his trembling lower lip out even more.

 

“Ma baba la,” he says doubtfully. Daryl smiles gently at him.

 

“I know, I know, fuck ‘em,” he says. “But they love us anyway.” He puts his mouth against the baby’s ear and whispers, “Promise.”

 

—-

 

(10:27p) ^ _ douchebag bro added you to the group “no pussy stag parties” _ ^

 

(10:27p) ^ _ douchebag bro added dumbass to the group “no pussy stag parties” _ ^

 

(10:27p) ^ _ douchebag bro added grp prjct rick to the group “no pussy stag parties” _ ^

 

(10:28p) ^aight so we r gonna plan a proper party 4 my bro cuz i aint trustn yall 2 do it rite.^

 

(10:30p) -dude wtf how did u get rick n glenns #s?-

 

(10:31p) ^stole em from ur fone.^

 

(10:32p) -its password protected??-

 

(10:33p) ^1234. rly hard password u got there.^

 

(10:33p) ^anyway wat do yall got planned?^

 

—-

 

(10:31p) ~aslsaljdlfa do we interact with your brother in this other groupchat?~

 

(10:32p) -ugh ig-

 

(10:32p) -he aint gna let it go-

 

(10:33p) ~okay, but not gonna lie, your brother kind of scares me.~

 

(10:33p) >I have absolutely no idea on how to interact with him.<

 

(10:34p) -just tlk like normal i’ll put him in his place if he gets shitty-

 

(10:34p) -he mite say rly offensive things btw so just like fair warning-

 

(10:34p) -he aint got no tact at all-

 

(10:35p) ~askljdflsj.~

 

(10:35p) >I’m gonna...try talking to him.<

 

—-

 

(10:36p) >Uh, hi Merle. I’m Daryl’s friend Rick. I’m technically in charge of planning the bachelor party that Daryl keeps insisting he doesn’t want.<

 

(10:37p) ^ya but we r gonna ignore him cuz hes a dum fuk.^

 

(10:37p) ^so wat yall got so far?^

 

(10:37p) ^and rick ur the cop rite do we gotta follow the law or do we get 2 have fun?^

 

(10:38p) >I mean, as long as the academy doesn’t find out, and it doesn’t get much worse than some underage drinking, it’ll probably be fine…<

 

(10:39p) -u cant even drink merle ur sober-

 

(10:40p) ^duh but that dont mean u cant drink.^

 

(10:40p) ^we’ll be careful dont worry ur pretty lil head over it.^

 

(10:40p) ^wheres ur other friend? the japanese one?^

 

(10:41p) -dude i literally told u hes korean like five hrs ago-

 

(10:42p) ^w/e.^

 

(10:42p) ^hes the one in charge of all this shit rite? get him in here.^

 

—-

 

(10:43p) ~aksljdsljf!~

 

(10:43p) >Dude, just reply.<

 

(10:43p) -get it over w/-

 

—-

 

(10:44p) ~hello, i’m glenn. i am the one planning stuff but it’d be a pleasure to have your herpes.~

 

(10:44p) ~HELP!~

 

(10:44p) ~TO HAVE YOUR HELP!~

 

—-

 

(10:44p) ~oh no!~

 

(10:45p) >Hahahahahaha!<

 

(10:45p) -lmfao-

 

—-

 

(10:45p) ^aint got no herpes to share sry kid. i use rubbers unlike my bro over here.^

 

(10:46p) ~no, of course, i’m sure you’re really careful. i didn’t mean to imply you’re not. safe sex is really important.~

 

(10:46p) ~not to talk about your sex life!~

 

(10:46p) ~sorry i don’t mean to make it weird. i put my feces in my mouth sometimes.~

 

(10:46p) ~FEET!!!~

 

(10:46p) ~dear god i’m just not gonna talk anymore.~

 

—-

 

(10:47p) ~i can’t be your wedding planner anymore because i have to kill myself.~

 

(10:47p) >Yeah, understandable.<

 

(10:47p) -thts fair-

 

—-

 

(10:47p) ^dude is ur friend retarded?^

 

(10:48p) -dnt use tht word-

 

(10:48p) ^not like in a bad way i mean literally is he not rite in the head?^

 

(10:48p) -hes fine just an idiot sometimes-

 

(10:48p) -n u scare him-

 

(10:48p) -so go easy on him plz-

 

(10:49p) ^w/e man.^

 

—-

 

(10:48p) ^ya so 4 the third time wat do yall have planned?^

 

(10:49p) >Uh, nothing too exciting. Mostly just hanging out and getting drunk and playing video games or something?<

 

(10:50p) ^ya nope not gonna happen.^

 

(10:50p) ^rick ur the bachelor party planner rite? i got ideas so u and me r gonna talk i’ll help u out. i’ll text u.^

 

(10:51p) -plz dnt-

 

(10:52p) ^dont u worry urself into a tizzy baby bro. i kno u like the back of my hand have some faith. we’ll have a gud ol time.^

 

(10:53p) -uh huh-

 

—-

 

(10:53p) ~we???~

 

(10:53p) ~i take it back we don’t need a bachelor party!~

 

(10:54p) -i tried 2 fukin tell u-

 

(10:54p) -2 l8 now-

 

(10:55p) >Yeah, he’s already texting me.<

 

(10:55p) >I guess this is happening now.<

 

(10:56p) ~oh no.~

 

(10:56p) -shud have listened 2 me-

 

(10:56p) -at least u gotta suffer 2 tho tht makes me feel better-

 

(10:57p) >Actually I’m kind of liking his ideas. I might be on board with this. I’ll run it by you Glenn.<

 

(10:58p) -wut abt me?-

 

(10:59p) >Nah, it’s a surprise, sorry.<

 

(11:00p) -i h8 surprises tho-

 

(11:01p) >¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ <

 

(11:01p) >Adding you to this group, Glenn.<

 

(11:02p) -wtf???-

 

(11:03p) >Goodnight, Daryl!<

 

(11:04p) -god im glad i only have 2 get married once-

 

(11:04p) -or not at all-

 

(11:04p) -cuz yall r gna kill me-

 

(11:10p) -yall r srsly not listening 2 me nymore r u?-

 

(11:10p) -gdi-

 

—-

 

_ July 1st _

_ Saturday _

 

“I don’t want to go, they won’t tell me what they planned, what if it’s bad? You look pretty,” Daryl is saying, leaning against the door to the bathroom, watching Carol do her makeup. He just got back from dropping the kids off at their aunt’s place for the night while he and Carol go to their respective pre-wedding parties. Unlike him, Carol knows exactly what her bachelorette party entails. She, Michonne, Maggie, and Tara are driving up to Atlanta to go to a fancy restaurant and then are sneaking booze into a smarmy hotel where they’re gonna stay for the night.

 

Daryl, on the other hand, has no idea what his friends and brother have planned, and it’s making his stomach twist. They know he hates parties right? They know he would balk at the usual bachelor party tropes. There’s a part of him that’s terrified that it’d be completely up Merle’s alley to hire a stripper, and frankly he’d rather die. Hopefully Glenn and Rick would have been able to talk his brother out of it, but what if they didn’t? What if he has to sit there and stare at the ceiling while some random woman who isn’t Carol gets naked in front of him? 

 

“Thank you. And I doubt they would make you do anything you hate,” Carol says, mouth parted slightly as she applies mascara. “All three of them like messing with you, but ultimately they all care about you and take this party seriously. My guess is that they’ve been working on something you’d enjoy.” She finishes up her mascara and moves on to her lipstick.

 

“Okay, but what if Merle convinced them to get a stripper?” Daryl asks, and Carol lets out a surprised laugh that makes her miss her mouth with her lipstick, drawing a red line on her chin. 

 

“They’d never do that to you, that’d just be cruel,” she says, wetting a tissue and wiping off her chin. “Did I tell you Michonne suggested we get a stripper?” She glances at Daryl and snorts at his look of disdain. “I told her absolutely not, so cool your jealousy.”

 

“Not jealous,” Daryl says honestly. “I trust you, but I figure you’d enjoy that just about as much as I would.”

 

“I’d be less awkward about it, but it’d still be really uncomfortable,” Carol agrees. “Tara was relieved I said no. Though she said that if Michonne wanted to get a female stripper instead she’d be game.”

 

“Pfft, well y’all can have the one Merle pro’ly forced Glenn and Rick to get to tortue me.” 

 

“I see you’re channeling Jesse today, you drama queen.” She blots her lipstick, missing Daryl’s scowl.

 

“Shush,” he says. She grins, turning around to face him, leaning up against the counter. She reaches out to him, and he steps into her space, placing his hands on her waist. She tilts her head up at him, all done up, with her hair French braided down the length of her back, and wearing a form-fitted outfit that makes him annoyed that he has to spend the evening doing dumb dude stuff when he could stay here and take advantage of the childless house with her instead. “You’re real lucky you’re cute.”

 

“I am, huh?” she says, batting her eyelashes at him.  _ Really _ annoyed he can’t take advantage of the childless house.

 

“Mm,” he hums, leaning down to kiss her, his fingers digging into her hips. Just as he gets her to part her lips and slips his tongue into her mouth, their front door opens and an obnoxiously loud Glenn yells,

 

“Yo, Dixon! Get your ass out here, it’s time to party!” 

 

“Ugh,” Daryl groans dropping his forehead against her shaking shoulder as she laughs.

 

“Go on,” she says, pushing him off of her, smiling sweetly. “And try to have a good time.”

 

“You, too,” he tells her, brushing the back of his hand over her cheek. “Love you.”

 

“Love you, too.”

 

“Dixon, if y’all are fucking or something I will not hesitate to come interrupt you, we gotta go! We got plans!” 

 

“Chill out, I’m coming, asshole,” Daryl yells back.

 

“Well finish cumming and get over here!” 

 

Daryl gives Carol a long-suffering look. She poorly suppresses a giggle. She gives him one more quick kiss before shoving him out of the bathroom. Sighing, Daryl takes hold of his cane and stalks into the living room where Glenn is waiting with his arms crossed.

 

“Ready to party?” Glenn asks, beaming.

 

“Let’s get this over with,” says Daryl. 

 

“That’s the spirit!” Glenn says, stepping aside to let Daryl go through the door first. “Nice lipstick, by the way. Red’s your color.”

 

“Oh fuck off,” Daryl grumbles, scrubbing at his mouth as he limps outside to where Rick and Merle are sitting in a pick-up his brother must be borrowing from someone. He casts one last longing look at his house with his sexy wife-to-be inside it, before heading over to catch his ride.

 

—-

 

“‘Kay, seriously, where the fuck are we going?” Daryl asks for the fourth time from his cramped spot behind Rick in the backseat of the pickup.

 

“Bleedin’ Christ, will you stop askin’ that? You’ll know when we get there,” Merle says from the driver’s seat.

 

“When you complain that your kids ask, ‘are we there that,’ too much on road trips I’m gonna remind you of this,” Glenn says from next to Daryl. 

 

“Hmph,” Daryl grunts, leaning back against his seat and pouting like a child. His phone buzzes and he pulls it out of his pocket. 

 

(5:09p) *Just hit the interstate. The girls seem to think they’re going to get me extremely fucked up tonight, so I am not responsible for whatever weird shit I text you later.*

 

(5:10p) -lol as long as ur safe then its fine-

 

(5:11p) *Do you know what you guys are doing yet?*

 

(5:12p) -no :/ -

 

(5:12p) -they wont tell me-

 

(5:13p) *Rude of them.*

 

(5:14p) -tell me abt it-

 

(5:15p) *Ok I’m getting in trouble for texting you on girls’ night so toodle loo for now. Love u lots. Let me know when you get to wherever you’re going so I know they’re not making you do anything torturous or dangerous.*

 

(5:16p) -yes ma’am-

 

(5:16p) -ilu-

 

(5:17p) * <3 *

 

Daryl stares at the little heart text the way he used to do in high school when she would send him something cute and he’d pine extra hard after her. Sighing, he turns off his screen and sits his phone in his lap. He looks out of the window and gives a bemused frown. Up ahead they’re coming up on the entrance to a campground.

 

“Is that where we’re goin’?” he asks, glancing at his brother. Merle looks at him through the rearview mirror, smirking.

 

“Told you I know you like the back of my hand, baby brother,” he says. “What’d you think I was plannin’? A stripper?”

 

Daryl smiles in spite of himself.

 

—-

 

“You know, when the apocalypse comes these friends of yours ain’t survivin’ shit,” Merle says pointedly, making sure Rick and Glenn hear, as he and Daryl finish putting up the giant six person tent the other two had somehow managed to hinder, not help, in setting up, despite receiving very easy and direct instructions. “Hell, you ain’t even walkin’ properly yet, and you can put up a damn tent. Can they at least start a fire?”

 

“Yeah, if it’s on the wick of a candle,” Daryl says. Over his shoulder, while he hammers a stake into the ground, he says to his friends, “Gather some shit for us to burn. Twigs and branches. Nothin’ wet. Sit it beside the pit.” 

 

Pleased to have a task they can handle, the two of them nod in unison and start scouring the area for flammable material. Daryl laughs a little before finishing up the tent with Merle—something that would have taken the others and age and a half to finish.

 

“Hope your girl can survive in the wilderness better than these city slickers you got here,” Merle says, watching the firewood retrievers with an air of amusement. 

 

“She’s a fast learner,” Daryl assures him. “So are they, they just ain’t never had a reason to be outside for anything but organized sports.” 

 

“We can hear you, you know,” Glenn says, shooting Daryl a glare.

 

“Wasn’t tryna keep quiet about it,” Daryl says, shrugging. He elbows his brother in the shoulder. “Help me get the fire started.” Merle gives him a wordless nod, and they work in quiet tandem, resulting in a crackling, blazing fire. Easy as pie.

 

After they (read: Merle and Daryl) get the rest of the campsite set up, Merle has Daryl and his friends each take a seat in a lawn chair around the fire. He lugs a cooler over and opens it. 

 

“Aight, for supper Imma grill up some burgers,” Merle says. “But while I’m doin’ it, I’m gonna get you three started on the party. Oh! But first.” He goes over to his duffel bag sat by the tent and digs inside it. He pulls out a plastic sack from Party City and Daryl eyes him warily.

 

As it turns out, his wariness is not without warrant. Merle comes over to him and reaches into the bag. He first pulls out a truly gaudy plastic tiara. Daryl shoots him a glare that very clearly says, “don’t you fucking dare,” but Merle ignores the obvious message, sticking the tiara on Daryl’s head in one swift movement. Daryl immediately goes to take it off, but Merle points at him and says,

 

“Touch it and I  _ will _ get you a stripper.”

 

Daryl let’s his arms fall. He doesn’t feel up to calling that particular bluff, just in case.

 

Next, Merle pulls out an obscene, hot pink, sparkly sash that has in cursive lettering, ‘WIFE-TO-BE,” except wife has been crossed out with sharpie, and “HUSBAND” is written above it in Merle’s chicken-scratch handwriting. Letting out a sigh of defeat, Daryl rolls his eyes as his brother drapes the sash over him. Beside him, Glenn and Rick are cracking up.

 

“Wait wait wait,” Glenn says, pulling out his phone. 

 

“Oh come on,” Daryl says, as Glenn comes over and aims his camera at him. Daryl gives him the most dead-eyed expression he can muster, which only seems to encourage his friend. 

 

“I hope you know I’m sending that to Carol immediately,” Glenn tells him, sitting back down, showing Rick the picture. 

 

“Can we get drunk now?” Daryl says to his brother flatly. Merle grins, clapping Daryl on the shoulder.

 

“Just what I was hopin’ you’d say.” He drags his duffel back over to the cooler and starts pulling out various types of liquors and mixers. “So I’m guessin’ the three of yous have only had cheap-ass high school kid booze. Whatever you can get your hands on? Mommy and daddy’s Coors Light? Some awful flavored liquor? Shit like that.”

 

Daryl, Rick, and Glenn exchange a glance and with identical looks of disgust Daryl knows they’re all recalling the Cinnabon vodka incident. Taking their silence as confirmation, Merle says, 

 

“Well, today y’all are gonna drink like grown-ass men.”

 

“As long as it’s not tequila,” Glenn says. “Last time Daryl drank tequila he got his girlfriend pregnant in Rick’s bathroom.” 

 

Merle snorts. 

 

“You’re growin’ on my, kid,” Merle tells him over his shoulder. Glenn raises an eyebrow, looking accomplished. “But no, no tequila. We’re gonna start with the expensive bourbon. The drunker y’all get, the less you’ll care about quality, so might as well drink it while you can appreciate it.” 

 

He hands the three of them red solo cups and then fills them with two fingers of bourbon. Daryl looks down at his cup skeptically.

 

“Just how lit are you intendin’ on us gettin’?” he asks.

 

“Hey man,” Merle says, raising his hands, bottle of bourbon in his right one. “Not only is it your bachelor party, but I also can’t partake so I gotta live vicariously. Imma make sure y’all have fun.”

 

“How much fun?” Glenn asks, just as suspiciously.

 

“Nothin’ too crazy,” Merle says. He’s greeted with three sets of doubtful expressions. He shrugs. “Probably.”

 

—-

 

“Listen. _Listen_. They don’t make sense, okay? Their body proportions make no sense at all. Did you know giraffes have the same number of neck bones as humans? They’re just like, way big, and that’s _fucked_ _up_ , okay? I hate it, I hate them. I fucking hate giraffes.” 

 

Glenn is pacing around the fire, gesturing with his solo cup throughout his polemic. Rick’s chair tipped over at some point but he didn’t bother to get up so he’s sort of curled up like a contortionist-like heap, occasionally saying, “Amen, brother,” at Glenn’s rant. Merle is looking and laughing at Glenn like he’s the weirdest person he’s ever met in his life. Daryl is lying on his back in the grass, staring up at the stars, ignoring most of what’s happening around him and thinking about Carol. 

 

Well, Carol, and also about how he kind of wants another hamburger.

 

“I miss my wife,” Daryl says then. He squints. “No, wait, not wife. That other word. She’s not my wife yet. Almost though.” He rolls onto his belly to face his friends and brother. “You guys, you know what’s fuckin’ wild?”

 

“Is it that you’re gettin’ married on Tuesday?” Merle asks, smirking. Daryl points at him.

 

“Yes,” he says seriously. He rolls onto his back again.

 

“Pretty wild, baby brother,” Merle says.

 

“Does it freak you out?” Glenn asks, sitting down onto the cooler and almost toppling off of it, but Merle leans over to grab him by the arm.

 

“Easy, kid,” he says. “Y’all hold your liquor like goddamn infants. I’d be disappointed if it weren’t so damn funny.” 

 

“ _ Does _ it freak you out, though, Daryl?” Rick asks from his chair heap.

 

“Does what freak me out?”

 

“Marriage.”

 

“Oh. No. Why would it?”

 

“‘Cause of the whole, you know—” Glenn gestures incomprehensibly. “—that whole bein’ with someone forever part.”

 

“No. That’s why it’s awesome. The forever part is kinda the point ain’t it? She and me get to get all old and ugly together, ‘cept she ain’t never gonna be ugly, and we get to watch our kids grow up. Oh man.” He frowns up at the sky. “I miss my kids. They’re so cool. Coolest fuckin’ kids, and my wife  _ made _ them. Almost wife. Ain’t that fuckin’ insane? She made  _ people _ .”  

 

“God, how’d you manage to grow up into such a sap given all the shit we been through?” Merle says, and he might have meant it as a jab, but it comes out like genuine wonder. He shakes his head. “It always surprises the shit out of me just how goddamn  _ good _ you are; how good you always been.” 

 

“Didn’t wanna be like him,” Daryl says, barely aware that he’s saying it. Merle scoffs.

 

“Nah, c’mon now, we ain’t goin’ there, we ain’t goin’ down deep into our feelin’s just ‘cause you’re drunk.”

 

“Okay,” Daryl says. “I ain’t him, though, am I? I’m a good daddy. Gonna be a good husband. Right?” He looks at his brother, who’s a bit like a deer caught in the headlights. After a beat, he gives Daryl a small smile.

 

“You’re a great daddy, baby brother,” he says. “Gonna be a great husband. You could never be like him. It ain’t in you.” 

 

Daryl nods, satisfied. He turns back to the sky. 

 

“You ain’t him neither,” he says. When Merle doesn’t say anything he glances his way again. “You ain’t.”

 

Merle chews on his lower lip before giving a miniscule nod.

 

“Listen,” Glenn says then, standing up, stumbling, and clapping a hand on Merle’s shoulder, startling him. “Listen. Merle. You listenin’?”

 

“Yeah,” Merle says, expression torn between entertained and annoyed. 

 

“Daryl? He is our brother,” Glenn says. “And you? You’re Daryl’s brother, too. That means you’re our brother, too. It’s math. The transitive property.”

 

“I dunno if that’s how the transitive property works,” Rick says from his heap. “But Glenn isn’t wrong, Merle. If you’re Daryl’s family, you’re our family. So you gotta stick around, ‘cause you got people who care about you being okay.”

 

“Merle, I am gonna tell you a secret,” Glenn says to Merle, leaning in slightly but still talking loudly enough for them all to hear. “You ready?”

 

“Uh huh,” Merle says slowly, trying to put a little personal space between the two of them.

 

“When we met Daryl he was all sad and kinda mean and broody. But! We adopted him, and Carol fell in love with him, and now? Now, he’s a happy fucking clam. See him? Look at him. He’s a clam.” Glenn points at Daryl, who is trying to figure out if there really are that many stars in the sky right now or if he’s seeing double. Glenn pokes Merle in the chest and says in a stage whisper, “Let us make you a clam.” 

 

Merle blinks at him.

 

“You wanna stop touchin’ me, kid?” he asks. Glenn gives a hasty nod and steps away, the backs of his knees hitting the cooler. He plops down onto it once again. Merle clears his throat. “But, you know...thanks. I gave Daryl shit about havin’ a bunch of nerd friends, but y’all ain’t so bad.”

 

“I will decide to take that as a compliment,” says Rick. “This isn’t really comfortable, guys. The chair is digging into my asscrack.” 

 

“Then get up,” says Glenn.

 

“Nah,” says Rick.

 

“I love you guys,” Daryl says then. They all look at him. “Like a whole lot.”

 

“We love you too, brother,” says Rick, wiggling around and wincing as the chair pokes him in various uncomfortable places. 

 

“Team Groupchat for life,” Glenn declares.

 

“Plus Merle,” says Rick.

 

“Plus Merle,” Glenn agrees. 

 

Merle just ducks his head, twisting his mouth in uncertainty. 

 

“You know who else I love?” says Daryl.

 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Glenn says. “Just text her, you romantic idiot.”

 

Daryl doesn’t need to be told twice.

 

—-

 

(9:49p) -i miss you is that dumb i mean i see you all the tiem i mean time-

 

(9:49p) -i am having a good tiem but it is like a party about me getting to marry you but you are not here so its all about you but i do not get to see you-

 

(9:49p) -time-

 

(9:53p) *Babbyyyy!!!*

 

(9:53p) *My sexy man who i love so much.*

 

(9:54p) -you drunk?-

 

(9:57p) *Soooooooo drunk.*

 

(9:57p) *But guess wut.*

 

(9:58p) -what ?/-

 

(10:00p) *Love you.*

 

(10:01p) -yeah-

 

(10:01p) -me two no two no still wrong too there we go-

 

(10:01p) -me too-

 

(10:02p) *3 days*

 

(10:03p) -cant wait-

 

(10:04p) -i will see you in the morning baby-

 

(10:07p) *Think of me while you partyy*

 

(10:08p) -duh-

 

(10:08p) -i think about you all of the time-

 

(10:10p) *Flirt*

 

(10:13p) -just when i am around you-

 

(10:14p) *Lucky me ;)*

 

(10:15p) -lucky me two-

 

(10:15p) -too-

 

—-

 

_ July 2nd _

_ Sunday _

 

(12:09p) -weddings cancelled im gna b vomiting until dec-

 

(12:13p) >Same.<

 

(12:15p) ~yep.~

 

(12:18p) ^god yall are pussies.^

 

(12:21p) -o this is the wrong grpcht hi merle-

 

(12:21p) -wedding cant happen u killed us-

 

(12:22p) ^toughen up baby brother.^

 

(12:22p) ^weddings in two days vomit or no.^

 

(12:26p) -omg jj is crying n my brain is exploding-

 

(12:26p) -bb shhh momma n daddy r so so so hungover-

 

(12:30p) ^want me to come over and watch them for a bit while you guys get ur shit 2gether?^

 

(12:34p) -i asked carol n she said tht if u did tht she wud 4give all ur sins 4ever-

 

(12:35p) ^well shit if i knew it were that easy i wud have gotten yall plastered months ago.^

 

(12:35p) ^be there in a few.^

 

(12:37p) ~see, we told you we turn sad, mean, broody people into sweethearts.~

 

(12:39p) >Rofl you just called Merle a sweetheart.<

 

(12:40p) ~clams.~

 

(12:41p) ^anyway im deleting this chat it’s been fun c u at the wedding bye.^

 

(12:41p) ^ _ douchebag bro deleted the group “no pussy stag parties” _ ^

 

—-

 

_ July 3rd _

_ Monday _

 

(8:03a) ~t-minus one day!~

 

(8:03a) ~rick and i will be over this evening once carol leaves to go to michonne’s, but let’s go through the checklist real quick.~

 

(8:07a) -ugh k-

 

(8:07a) -go 4 it-

 

(8:08a) ~do you know what all you’re wearing?~

 

(8:09a) -yeah w/e u put me in-

 

(8:10a) ~are you picking up the rings?~

 

(8:11a) -picked them up fri-

 

(8:12a) ~oh cool. how do the alterations on hers look?~

 

(8:13a) -rly gud actually i’ll show u l8r whn shes not here-

 

(8:14a) >Good morning, I’m begrudgingly awake, what’s happening?<

 

(8:15a) ~we’re going through the checklist to see what else we need to get done before tomorrow.~

 

(8:16a) >Fun stuff. You excited, Daryl?<

 

(8:17a) -if by excited u mean sick 2 my stomach thn yes-

 

(8:17a) -brb jojo threw oatmeal on the floor n henrys tryna eat it-

 

(8:18a) ~okay, while you do that i’m going to keep checking things off.~

 

(8:18a) ~i have everything prepared for the actual marriage ceremony.~

 

(8:18a) ~they got their marriage license a week and a half ago.~

 

(8:19a) >Who’s setting stuff up tomorrow? Decoration-wise?<

 

(8:20a) ~carol’s aunt and me, and then we’ll have tara stand guard to make sure nothing fucks up while we come and help finish getting the bride and groom ready, which will probably be about as easy as getting josie to wear pants.~

 

(8:21a) >Rofl probably.<

 

(8:21a) >Who’s on the guest list again?<

 

(8:22a) ~for the actual wedding it’s gonna be you, me, barb, merle, michonne, maggie, tara, jesse, josie, and henry.~

 

(8:22a) ~daryl specifically told me to include henry on the formal guest list. he’s ring bearer.~

 

(8:23a) >Of course he is.<

 

(8:24a) ~then for the reception i convinced them to invite a few other people.~

 

(8:25a) >Oh so Daryl did finally relent to that, huh? I thought he said that more people made it a party.<

 

(8:26a) -i did-

 

(8:26a) -bc it does-

 

(8:27a) ~yes, but it’s people you like.~

 

(8:27a) ~your guys’ friend rachel and her son and husband, dale, axel, oscar, and merle’s weird roommate.~

 

(8:28a) -so many ppl-

 

(8:29a) ~hardly.~

 

(8:29a) >And if it gets too overwhelming we’ll find a way to let you guys sneak off for a bit to regroup.<

 

(8:30a) -mmmk-

 

(8:30a) -im anxious-

 

(8:31a) >About all the people?<

 

(8:32a) -abt saying things in front of ppl-

 

(8:32a) -im real bad @ public speaking-

 

(8:33a) ~try not to think of it as public speaking.~

 

(8:33a) >Yeah, just focus on Carol. No one else matters.<

 

(8:34a) -blurgh-

 

(8:35a) ~did you finish your vowels?~

 

(8:36a) -ya theyre a e i o and u rite?-

 

(8:36a) >Did you remember to include sometimes y?< 

 

(8:36a) -fuk 4got tht one-

 

(8:37a) ~you guys never get less insufferable.~

 

(8:37a) ~*vows.~

 

(8:38a) -i finished them but theyre prob bad n i shudnt say them-

 

(8:39a) >I’m sure they’re fine.<

 

(8:39a) ~you want us to read over them?~

 

(8:40a) -actually yeah-

 

(8:40a) -cud u real quick? tell me if theyre awful?-

 

(8:41a) >You sure you’re comfortable with that?<

 

(8:42a) -ur gonna hear em one way or another anyway mite as well tell me if they suck b4 i say them in front of even more ppl-

 

(8:43a) >Okay. Go for it.<

 

(8:45a) - _ you shared an attachment _ -

 

(8:45a) -theyre bad i alrdy kno so just tell me how 2 make them better-

 

(8:56a) -y r u taking so long?-

 

(8:56a) -how bad r they?-

 

(8:58a) ~they aren’t bad at all, daryl.~

 

(8:58a) >You got them just right, brother.<

 

(8:59a) -yeah?-

 

(9:00a) ~yep. now excuse me, i have something in my eye.~

 

(9:00a) >Same.<

 

(9:00a) ~must be a lot of dust in this groupchat.~

 

(9:00a) >Should do something about that.<

 

(9:01a) -idgi-

 

(9:02a) ~that’s okay.~

 

(9:02a) >You will.<

 

—-

 

_ July 4th _

_ Tuesday _

 

Daryl stands stiffly, scrunching his nose in the perfect mirror image of the way Josie does, while Glenn fusses over his outfit. All things considered, it could be a lot worse. It’s not too much different than his prom outfit, in fact, just nicer. He’s got brand new black pants, brand new biker boots, and a brand new white, button-up shirt that is ironed so neatly he feels like he’s wearing a mannequin's clothing. All acceptable, and thus far Glenn hasn’t forced him into a tie.

 

“Okay, time for the final touch,” Glenn says once he’s satisfied with whatever the hell it is he was trying to straighten up on his shirt. “Rick, grab the  pièce de résistance , please.” 

 

Daryl sighs, not sure what Glenn has planned, but dreading it, right up until Rick emerges from Daryl’s closet with the vest Carol made him for their first Christmas together. A grin spreads across his face.

 

“I thought you said I wasn’t allowed to wear that,” Daryl says, taking it from Rick and slipping it on, immediately feeling more like himself.

 

“Yeah, well, turns out it’s your wedding, not mine,” Glenn says, smiling kindly. He looks Daryl up and down and gives a solid nod. “I think this looks like a man who’s ready to get married. What do you think, Rick?”

 

“I would agree with that assessment,” Rick says, giving Daryl a clap on the shoulder. “You ready to head out there?” 

 

“Guess so,” Daryl says, gut twisting.

 

“Nervous?” Glenn asks gently. Daryl shrugs.

 

“Is it the vows?” asks Rick. Daryl shrugs again.

 

“You know that you don’t have to read them out loud, bud,” Glenn says. “We can do old school vows, and you guys can read your personal ones to each other in private.” 

 

Daryl considers this for a split second, but quickly dismisses it.

 

“Nah,” he says. “I wanna be able to read them out to her. It feels important. I can write her a million letters, but this is the only time I’m ever gonna have the opportunity to stand up there and be open and honest with her like I ain’t ever been, and after all the work we done the past year tryna be okay with bein’ vulnerable it just feels like a cop out to do it the easy way. She deserves the effort.” 

 

“God you disgust me,” Glenn says, shaking his head.

 

“Totally vile,” Rick agrees.

 

“What?” asks Daryl.

 

“Nothing,” Glenn says, turning him around and pointing him towards the door. “Go on now, we have a wedding to get to.”

 

Daryl’s hand sweats around the handle of his cane.

 

Here goes nothing, he thinks.

 

—-

 

As big of a pain in the ass Glenn has been over the past month, Daryl has to hand it to him that he did a miraculous job. The trees are all covered in silver fairy lights, and there’s an aisle made of white cloth leading up to a makeshift altar stood against the backdrop of the hill, where the expanse of trees goes on for miles. The sun still has a good hour to go before it sets, but already Daryl can make out the occasional firework, a muted sound like distant thunder accompanying each one. 

 

“Thank you for this,” Daryl says to Glenn quietly. Glenn gives him a side-smile and shakes his head.

 

“Thanks for letting me help,” he says. He gestures for Daryl to follow him up to the altar, and Daryl snorts when he takes him by the shoulders and manually adjusts him to stand in the right place. Tara’s with Henry on a leash, sitting in one of the few chairs set out, and she waves exuberantly at Daryl. Daryl gives a small wave back and starts drumming his fingers against his leg. 

 

Rick comes up and says quietly so that only Daryl can hear, “I know you’re nervous, brother, but just remember that even if you tripped over every word, or even threw up on her damn shoes, Carol’s gonna look at you like you shit rainbows, and by the end of it you’re gonna have her as a wife, and that’s what matters most. Focus on that, alright.” Daryl swallows as he nods. Rick squeezes his upper arm and adds, “But try not to throw up on her shoes, okay?” 

 

“Fuck off,” Daryl says, grinning. Rick goes and takes a seat as well. Not a minute later, Merle comes up the hill, and he lets out a low whistle when he sees Daryl.

 

“Don’t you clean up nice, baby brother,” he says loudly, and Daryl rolls his eyes. 

 

“Yeah, hi,” he says flatly. 

 

Merle laughs and comes up to him as well. He takes Daryl off guard when he pulls him into a big bear hug and mutters, “Proud of you, kid,” so quietly he almost misses it. Merle steps back and walks to his seat like nothing happened. Daryl leans into his cane and feels off-kilter. Everything about this day is so  _ weird _ . He needs something to ground him.

 

“Yoohoo, some people wanted to say hi before all the action starts,” comes Carol’s aunt’s voice. Daryl looks up and breathes a sigh of relief to see her and Maggie each carrying a twin up the hill. 

 

“Hey, sweethearts,” Daryl murmurs when the women bring the kids to him. He kisses them both on the forehead one at a time, and whispers, “I could use some words of encouragement. You got anything for me?” 

 

“Dada la lalala ma lala da bababa da,” Jesse says, reaching out and taking hold of one of the buttons on Daryl’s shirt.

 

“Thanks, y’all are lookin’ pretty sharp yourselves,” Daryl says. The twins, likely on the insistence of Barb, are dressed in a suit and a fancy dress respectively. “And you, baby girl, any words of wisdom?” he asks Josie.

 

Josie looks him over, chewing on her fist. After a beat, she takes her fist out of her mouth and says, “Da.” 

 

Daryl nods.

 

“Damn straight, baby, it’s all gonna go just fine,” he says to her. He kisses them both again and promises to come see them soon. As Barb and Maggie start towards their seats, Barb says,

 

“Wait ‘til you see her,” with a knowing smile, and Maggie nods in agreement. The knot in Daryl’s stomach gets tighter. 

 

“Michonne just texted me that they’re ready to go if you are,” Glenn says to Daryl. Daryl takes a deep breath.

 

“Okay,” he says.

 

“Ready?”

 

“Ready.” 

 

With a nod, Glenn casts a quick text and then shoves his phone into his pocket. A heartbeat later, Michonne steps through the trees to where the aisle starts, and says, “Hello, everyone, if I could have your attention.” Everyone shifts in their seats to look at her. “The bride has requested that there be no ‘here comes the bride’ nonsense, because, and I quote, ‘That song is annoying as fuck.’” Daryl smiles to himself. “In lieu of any music, I’ve been told to give her an over-the-top introduction, and to tell you all to give exaggerated oohs and ahhs as she walks down the aisle. Everyone clear on their instructions?”

 

There’s a chorus of yes’s from the small group of people. 

 

“Good,” Michonne says. “Then may I please take this opportunity to introduce a woman of magnificent talent. She made not one, but  _ two _ human beings at the same time. She could kill a man with a single glare. She made it all the way through high school cheer with only breaking  _ one _ bone, and it wasn’t even hers. She’s a mother, a friend, a niece, and just a straight-up badass woman, and today she adds to her resume the title of ‘wife’. Please, give an over-the-top welcome to today’s bride, Carol!” 

 

Michonne steps to the side and gestures to the trees where Carol emerges. She’s greeted by applause, oohs, ahhs, babbles, and, in Henry’s case, barks. She laughs at everyone’s adherence to her instructions, and walks down the aisle like a queen, head held high, pretending to be basking in the attention. 

 

Daryl, however, is saying nothing. He’s not clapping. He’s not moving at all. The only thing he can do is stare.

 

She’s got on her fancy white wedding dress, that stops just above her knees, and she’s got on her own leather vest, with a pair of biker boots, and her hair is pulled into a side braid with a single white rose stuck in it. Her lips are bright red, and her nails match. Daryl had absolutely no expectations for what she was going to look like today, and yet she’s exceeded them anyway. 

 

Carol reaches him a few seconds later, or maybe it was a whole lifetime, time doesn’t mean much right now, but suddenly she’s right in front of him, and all he wants is for everyone to disappear so he can hold her and tell her how beautiful she is, and not have to wait for a whole ceremony to kiss her. 

 

Instead, he shakes his head in awe, a hint of a smile on his lips, which she mirrors on her own face. 

 

“I almost ran out of the trees too early because there was a really big spider on a branch like, right next to me,” she says to him quietly, breaking the tension, and he busts up laughing, all his anxiety zapped away just like that. Rick and Glenn were right—as long as he focuses on Carol he’ll be just fine. 

 

“Okay, am I gonna marry you two, or are you just gonna keep making heart eyes at each other?” Glenn asks. Both Daryl and Carol shoot him deadpan expressions and he snorts. “God, you’re so perfect for each other,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “Alright,” he says at normal volume. “We’ve got babies, a dog, and two people who hate being the center of attention here right now, so let’s do a quick and dirty ceremony and then get to the party, yeah?” 

 

“Don’t call it a party or he won’t come,” Carol says, getting a laugh.

 

“Reception, then,” Glenn corrects. “Now, I could stand up here and wax poetic about how almost three years ago I met this guy right here at a football game neither of us wanted to be at, and I asked him if he had a crush on Carol and he said, and I quote, ‘I ain’t into, Carol,’ and then told me to stop talking, and now here we are, but I can save all that embarrassing stuff for the reception.” Daryl casts Glenn a glare while Carol poorly suppresses a grin.

 

“What we’re gonna do instead is hear from the bride and groom themselves, as they’ve each prepared their own vows to read to one another. You guys ready? You actually bring your vows with you? Well, Daryl, I know you did, because you checked your pocket seventeen times, yes I counted.”

 

“Yes, I have mine,” Carol says, subtly squeezing Daryl’s arm. 

 

“Alright, well, ladies first? Hashtag feminism?” 

 

“I’m sorry I asked you if we could get married by Glenn,” Daryl says. Carol simply laughs as she pulls out a folded piece of paper from the bosom of her dress. She flattens it out and takes a deep breath.

 

“Should I just go for it?” she asks. Daryl shrugs.

 

“Guess so,” he says. 

 

“Okay,” she says. 

 

She clears her throat and starts to read:

 

“Daryl, it’s hard for me to write these vows, not because I can’t think of what to write, but because there’s  _ so much _ to write that I could stand up here the whole night and still not get through everything about you that makes you special to me. So I’m going to focus on a single moment and see where that takes me.

 

“There was a day, one that wasn’t that long ago, but somehow feels like a million years ago at the same time, where I was sitting in my junker of a truck, may she rest in peace, about two seconds away from losing my shit because the engine wouldn’t turn over, and I couldn’t miss work, and I hadn’t slept, and I simply couldn’t understand why this was the life I had been given. In that moment I wanted to give up so badly. I was  _ tired _ , Daryl, not just literally, but mentally I was at my threshold, and I didn’t know how much longer I was going to be able to keep holding on.

 

“But then, while all of this was racing through my head, you stepped up to my car door and asked me if I needed help. And my first reaction to you, well, actually my first reaction to you was annoyance because you scared the shit out of me because I didn’t know there was anyone around so I hit my head on the back of my seat, but after I recovered from that I felt this overwhelming connection to you. I don’t mean love at first sight, so much as importance at first sight; like I saw your face and somehow knew I needed to hang onto you, and so I did. I dug my nails in deep and hoped and prayed that you wouldn’t go away. 

 

“I’ve thought a lot about that moment, Daryl, and I’ve realized that you were the first person who looked at me and knew I wasn’t okay, and even more miraculously than that, you saw I wasn’t okay, and then decided to take it upon yourself to help me. I spent my whole youth building up a wall so that no one could see just how hurt I really was, but you knew. You saw it. I am involuntarily transparent to you, and that’s terrifying at the same time that it’s wonderful, and the fact that you were there in that moment—that everything in space and time and creation aligned for you to stand right there when I needed you most—almost feels like fate. And if not fate, then some serious luck.

 

“You have saved my life, Daryl, and I mean that quite literally. The future used to terrify me; used to turn me into an existential mess, but not anymore, because no matter what life throws at us—and life likes to throw stuff at us like we’re goddamn baseball bats—I now know that I’ll be okay, because I have you. I have the family you have given me. And I cannot wait to live every single one of the days of our life together, good or bad, because everyday with you is a day worth living.

 

“I love you, deeply, desperately, and forever.

 

“Thanks for all of it.”

 

Carol lowers her paper and meets Daryl’s eye. At some point Daryl had pressed his hand not holding his cane over his mouth. He blows out a breath and drops his hand, using it to instead cup her face for just a moment. It’s all he can say on the matter, and he knows she understands completely. He swallows down a lump in his throat and glances at Glenn, who looks like he’s on the verge of tears himself. 

 

“Me?” he asks quietly. 

 

“You,” Glenn confirms. 

 

Daryl takes a moment to center himself, pointedly ignoring any eyes on him that aren’t Carol’s, as he takes his own paper from his pocket. His is a little more crumpled than hers was, but he can read it just fine when he unfolds it. He stares down at it for a long moment, tongue tied. He startles a little when Carol reaches out and touches him lightly on the shoulder. Daryl glances up to meet her eye and she gives him a reassuring smile. He nods, summoning the courage to start to read:

 

“My daddy used to beat me a lot. That’s pro’ly a weird thing to say at the start of a wedding vow, ‘specially ‘cause you already know that, but I promise it has a point, so hang in there with me.

 

“He’d hurt me all the time, Carol, in all kinds of ways we don’t need to talk about, but none of his beatings hurt worse than the things he’d say to me. There’s scars all over my body, but there’s a lot in my mind, too. There was times I really believed that I deserved what he did to me, ‘cause I was worthless and unlovable. How was I s’posed to know any different? I didn’t have nobody to tell me any different. I had no friends, no adults who gave a damn that I came to school in ratty clothes and bruises on my arms, and no family ‘cept a brother who couldn’t do nothin’ for me ‘cause he was goin’ through the exact same shit. He was the only person tellin’ me anything, and so his voice became the truth.  

 

“And then you happened. Outta nowhere. I did the decent thing and gave you a ride ‘cause you needed one, and then you decided you weren’t going to let me leave. And everything you did was a mystery to me. Sayin’ hello to me in public was more kindness than I was used to, and I sure as hell acted like someone who never spent any time with people, but you kept staying around. 

 

“And then it got even more crazier ‘cause you introduced me to people. You gave me my best friends. I used to think a best friend was a made up thing in TV shows. I used to think there wasn’t no way anyone would want to spend five seconds in my company, but you taught me that people actually like me. And Carol, I had no idea how...sorry, hold on…” He clears his throat, shutting his eyes for a second. “...Baby, I had no idea how fuckin’ lonely I was until I didn’t hafta be anymore. 

 

“You changed everything. You gave me friends, you gave me my brother back, and, holy shit, Carol, you gave me my  _ children _ , which is somethin’ I can never repay. But on top of all that, you gave me somethin’ else, too. For all these years I’ve had my dad’s voice in my head tellin’ me I ain’t worth dirt. Carol, you finally shut the fucker up, and replaced his voice with yours, and now every day, even the really bad ones, I hear you in here.” He taps the side of his head with his finger. “I hear you tellin’ me you love me, and for the first time in my entire life, I believe that I deserve that.”

 

He puts the paper down and looks at her.

 

“So thanks,” he says quietly. “For all of it. I love you.” 

 

Tears are streaming down Carol’s face, and belatedly Daryl realizes they’re streaming down his as well. He hazards a glance at everyone else and sees everyone above the age of one is crying, too. Even goddamn Merle is blinking back tears, and that’s something Daryl never thought he’d see. 

 

“Either I totally nailed that vows thing or it was so fuckin’ bad it made everyone cry,” he says, not even really meaning it as a joke, but he gets laughs anyway. He smiles awkwardly and looks at Glenn, who’s an absolute wreck. “You gonna still be able to marry us, or…?” 

 

“Shut up,” Glenn laughs, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “Here, get the damn ring bearing dog up here while I get my shit together.”

 

On cue, Tara gets up with Henry and walks him up the aisle. Or rather, Henry walks Tara up the aisle, dragging her behind him as he bolts up to his mom and dad, tail wagging like mad. Daryl and Carol both bend down to give him sufficient pats, before taking the tiny box tied to his collar. 

 

“Here,” Daryl says, handing Carol his silver band for her to slip onto his finger. He keeps hers in the box for now. Tara takes Henry back to their seat, and Glenn gains enough composure to keep talking.

 

“Okay, I can’t handle much more of this, so let’s get some I do’s happening,” he says. “Do the ring swappy thing first.”

 

“God, you should do this for a living,” Daryl deadpans, holding his left hand out. Carol takes the silver band and slips it onto his left ring finger. Daryl, who’s never worn jewelry in his life, is surprised at how right it feels. 

 

“Okay, I did a little more than just fix the band size,” Daryl says, taking Carol’s ring out of the box. She holds her hand out and furrows her brow.

 

“What’d you do?” she asks. In response, he slides her ring onto her finger and lets her see for herself. She lets out a soft “oh!” sound. The original diamond is still there on the gold band, but there are two blue stones on either side of it now.

 

“They’re sapphire,” Daryl says. “They’re—”

 

“The twins’ birthstone,” Carol finishes for him. Her eyes well up all over again.

 

“You two have got to stop,” Glenn says, pouting his lower lip at them. “God, Maggie, I’m sorry I’m not this cute,” he calls over to his girlfriend.

 

“I forgive you,” she calls back. Daryl and Carol laugh.

 

“Okay, before we dissolve into a puddle of mush, let’s get this over with. Take each other’s hands you two,” says Glenn. Daryl and Carol do as they’re told, Carol holding his cane with him. “Alright, Carol, do you take Daryl Dixon to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

 

Carol smiles sweetly up at Daryl.

 

“I do,” she says, and Daryl ducks his head a little. 

 

“Daryl, do you take Carol Miller to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

 

Daryl swallows down the lump trying to block his words. He manages a very soft,

 

“I do.”

 

“Then by the power invested in me by getordained.org, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the—oh you’re already going for it, never mind.” 

 

Before the words are even out of Glenn’s mouth, Daryl is pulling Carol to him, kissing her thoroughly. He’s vaguely aware of his friends catcalling and applauding them, but he doesn’t pay them any mind. The only thing that matters is  _ her _ .

 

He pulls away just far enough to rest his forehead on hers. 

 

“We’re married,” she whispers to him.

 

“Go team,” he says, smiling when she laughs. He straightens up and glances at Glenn expectantly, who nods.

 

“Okay, we have one last thing to do before the reception. Carol, Daryl requested this specifically.”

 

“Requested what?” she asks, looking at Daryl confused. In response, Daryl hands his cane to Glenn and places his hands on her waist. 

 

“First dance,” he tells her quietly. She knits her brows together even tighter.

 

“Baby, you don’t dance.” 

 

“You’re right, which is why everyone is going to look away right now.” He looks up at all their friends and family. They look back, until they realize he’s not kidding and awkwardly all shift their chairs so they aren’t looking at the newlyweds. To Glenn, Daryl says, “Okay, hit play, but if you don’t turn around too I’m gonna hurt you later.” 

 

“You’d think you’d be more pleasant given you just married the love of your life,” Glenn mumbles, but he goes to the bluetooth speaker Daryl had him set up beforehand.

 

“Put your hands around my neck,” he tells her. She does, still looking at him like he’s suggested they go join a cult. The first few notes begin to play and Carol immediately starts crying. “It wouldn’t be our wedding without Fleetwood Mac, right?” he whispers in her ear, swaying gently with her in his arms.

 

“Songbird” plays over the speakers, filling their little space on the top of the hill. Daryl can’t take his eyes off of her. 

 

Carol mouths some of the words at him.

 

“ _ And I wish you all the love in the world, but most of all, I wish it from myself. _ ”

 

Daryl, feeling extra spontaneous today, apparently, mouths the words right back.

 

“ _ And the songbirds are singing like they know the score. _ ”

 

Together, wrapped in each other, their wedding bands shining on their left hands, they mouth the final words together.

  
“ _ And I love you, I love you, I love you, like never before. _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> giraffes rly freak me out u guys
> 
> for the full marriage experience, u should listen to songbird while reading their dance scene. i can't ever listen to songbird again bc i listened to it on repeat for two hours and it got extremely grating.
> 
> i have quite literally have been writing for upwards of about 14 hours, it is nearly 5am, but i apparently was invested in finishing this, dude. idek. in retrospect it totally could have been two chapters, but i didn't realize that until i was already more than halfway done with it, so here we are.
> 
> that means that we have two chapters left, and i'm gonna say that the next chapter will be up this weekend. maybe saturday, not sunday, bc, fittingly, sunday is my anniversary. i'd feel worse about skipping my thursday update again, except this chapter is nearly 12k words, so y'all can deal.
> 
> i need to go to bed. i needed to go to bed three hours ago. whups.
> 
> this fic controls my life. anyway. <3 u all.
> 
> aslfjdsaljaksla,  
> -diz


	31. Airplanes (reprise)

_ July 5th _

_ Wednesday _

 

(3:09p) ~how's the first day of being mr. and mrs. dixon going?~

 

(3:11p) >Have you fallen into a monotonous routine, spending your evenings with microwaved dinners and Wheel of Fortune before falling asleep before ten, both resenting how your once passionate relationship has become sexless?*

 

(3:14p) -nah not yet-

 

(3:14p) -def not sexless thts 4 sure-

 

(3:15p) ~yoooo!~

 

(3:15p) >Get it, brother!<

 

(3:15p) ~bonetown has some extended stay residents.~

 

(3:15p) >Lots of consummation going on.<

 

(3:16p) -ya ok we can stop tlking abt it now i regret this convo-

 

(3:17p) ~hey man, we're just proud you're taking advantage of your new marital status and an empty house.~

 

(3:18p) -not 4 much longer im gna go get the kids here soon-

 

(3:18p) -carols aunt said she'd watch em longer but we wna spend as much time as possible w/ them b4 we leave sat-

 

(3:19p) >Are you going to actually enjoy your honeymoon or are you going to spend the whole time worrying about the twins?<

 

(3:20p) -i can do both-

 

(3:21p) ~they're gonna be fine. we're all pitching in with watching them and we'll all send you a million pictures and videos a day so you know we haven't sold them on the black market or something.~

 

(3:22p) -ik-

 

(3:22p) -just nvr been further thn atlanta from them u kno?-

 

(3:23p) >Do you know where you're going yet?<

 

(3:24p) -no carols aunt still wont tell us til friday which is stressful bc u kno how i feel abt surprises-

 

(3:24p) -shud have nvr left it up 2 her but carol said i was bad at picking places-

 

(3:25p) ~in her defense, your top choices were cleveland and "i dunno, maybe somewhere with a lake."~

 

(3:26p) -yeah yeah-

 

(3:27p) >Do you have any guesses on where it might be?<

 

(3:28p) -not rly the only clue is she made us get a rush order on passports so its prob somewhere outta the country-

 

(3:28p) -prob an island or smthn bc thts a honeymoon thing rite?-

 

(3:29p) ~honeymooners do often go to islands, yes.~

 

(3:30p) -prob tht then-

 

(3:30p) -carol told her aunt the only rules r tht i dnt like being cold n she wont go 2 france bc she h8s french-

 

(3:31p) ~thankfully no one speaks french where you're going so you'll be good.~

 

(3:32p) -...-

 

(3:32p) >...<

 

(3:33p) ~i mean…probably no one speaks french there. french isn't the official language of that many places, right?~

 

(3:34p) -u kno-

 

(3:34p) -how do u kno?-

 

(3:35p) ~i dunno what you're talking about, i've never known anything in my life.~

 

(3:36p) >Usually I'd agree with you but clearly you know something you're not telling us. Do you know where Barb is sending Daryl and Carol on vacation?<

 

(3:37p) ~nope why would i know that?~

 

(3:38p) -she told u didnt she? whn u were doing wedding decorating-

 

(3:39p) ~... maybe.~

 

(3:40p) -tell me rite now-

 

(3:41p) ~i can't, i promised i'd keep it a secret.~

 

(3:42p) -k but ur bad @ keeping secrets so tell me-

 

(3:43p) ~no, i've been so good about keeping my mouth shut about things, i'm not letting this screw me up.~

 

(3:44p) -rick help me get him 2 spill-

 

(3:45p) >You don't have to tell Daryl, but you should tell me.<

 

(3:46p) -wut no fuk u-

 

(3:47p) ~i am not telling either of you.~

 

(3:48p) -tell me so ik wut 2 expect or so i can prepare myself if it's someplace weird-

 

(3:48p) -is it bad?-

 

(3:49p) ~do you really think your aunt-in-law would fully finance a trip to somewhere bad?~

 

(3:50p) -o weird shes my in law-

 

(3:50p) -but w/e thts not important-

 

(3:50p) -just tell me-

 

(3:51p) ~no.~

 

(3:52p) >Tell /me/.<

 

(3:53p) ~no!~

 

(3:54p) -im telling my wife on u she'll scare u into telling-

 

(3:57p) -she says u blocked her #??-

 

(3:58p) ~just until barb tells you where you're going.~

 

(3:58p) ~also i like how you said wife instead of carol. you're gonna take every opportunity to say that, huh?~

 

(3:59p) - ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ -

 

(3:59p) -shes my wife-

 

(3:59p) -also tell me where we're going-

 

(4:00p) ~no.~

 

(4:01p) -ur lucky i gotta get the kids this isnt ovr ur gna tell me or i'll fukin end u-

 

(4:02p) ~threaten all you want, bud, but we all know you're a teddy bear.~

 

(4:02p) >It's Mrs. Dixon who you gotta watch out for, and Glenn managed to think ahead for once on that one.~

 

(4:03p) -h8 u both-

 

(4:04p) ~i promise it's a good surprise.~

 

(4:05p) -y do u gotta be gud @ keeping secrets now tht i need u 2 suk @ it?-

 

(4:06p) ~you taught me how, this is your fault.~

 

(4:07p) >That's fair, you did make him keep a lot of secrets.<

 

(4:08p) -w/e-

 

(4:08p) -ur still the worst-

 

(4:09p) ~go get your small humans and get over yourself.~

 

(4:10p) -whn they get old enuf im gna teach them 2 torment u-

 

(4:11p) ~like you weren't already gonna.~

 

(4:11p) ~you've spent all your ammunition, you can do me no harm.~

 

(4:12p) -ya sure-

 

(4:12p) -we'll c-

 

—-

 

_ June 7th _

_ Friday _

 

“C’mon, darlin’, you got this. Just concentrate,” Daryl says. He and Carol are on the floor of the nursery, sitting across from the cribs, where Jesse is standing, looking contemplative as he balances on two feet all by himself.

 

“Mommy and daddy are right here if you fall, just give it a try,” Carol says, her arms outstretched, beckoning Jesse towards them.

 

“Your sister and you ain’t allowed to learn how to walk when we ain’t here to see it, and we’re leavin’ tomorrow, remember, so either do it now or save it ‘til we get back. I don’t wanna hafta ground you,” Daryl says sternly.

 

“Mama ba dadadada,” Jesse says, moving one leg tentatively before losing his footing and hitting the ground. Instead of getting up again he butt scoots over to his parents. “La la la,” he tells them. They both nod.

 

“Good effort, sweet potato,” Carol says, scooping him up and kissing his belly, making him giggle.

 

“How ‘bout you, Jojo? You wanna give it a try?” Daryl asks his daughter. Josie is sitting a safe distance away, diligently gnawing on a board book, ignoring them. Daryl follows his son’s example and butt scoots over to her. She furrows her brow at him when he picks her up from under her armpits and tries placing her on her feet. 

 

“Ba,” she says irritably, refusing to put weight on her legs. She bends her knees so Daryl can’t hold her in place.

 

“Can’t you just try for a second?” Daryl asks her. In response she squirms in his grasp until he’s forced to put her down. She goes right back to her book, casting Daryl a suspicious look that says, ‘don’t try that shit again, I’m busy.’ Daryl holds his hands up in surrender. “My bad, baby, damn.” 

 

“You interrupted reading time,” Carol says, angling her head away from Jesse to keep him from pulling her hair.

 

“Guess so,” Daryl says, laying down on his back beside Josie. Slowly, he sneaks his hand over and tickles her foot. She moves it away, her mouth twisting into a suppressed smile. Without looking up from her book she extends her leg out again. Daryl pinches one of her toes lightly and she pulls it away, letting out a single giggle. She gets on all fours and crawls over to him. She sits with her back against his side, reminding Daryl of a cat trying and failing to pretend it doesn’t want attention. He doesn’t call her out on it, though, he just accepts her reluctant love.

 

“Auntie will be over soon,” Carol says, checking the analog clock on the wall. “I should probably start dinner.” 

 

“Need help?” Daryl asks, playing with a curly cue of hair on the back of Josie’s head. He tugs it out gently and lets it go, grinning when it springs back. 

 

“Remember when you tried to make spaghetti and you somehow managed to light the pasta on fire?”

 

“That was  _ one _ time.”

 

“Yes, well, once was plenty, I can do it. Come keep me company, though?” 

 

“‘Course.” Daryl moves away from Josie and she huffs at him. “You’re the one who didn’t wanna hang out with  _ me _ ,” Daryl reminds her, using the bookshelf to help pull himself up. He’s been forgoing the cane ever since his wedding night, but getting up and down is still a trick. “C’mon, let’s go help your momma with supper.”

 

He and Carol round up the kids and take them to the kitchen, placing them in their pack-n-play. Jesse practices standing some more, leaning on the side, watching his parents with interest, while Josie refines some motor skills by rolling a ball back and forth. 

 

“You get anything new from Glenn? Any cues?” Carol asks, getting out a pot and filling it with water. She puts the stove on high and sits the pot on top of it to boil.

 

“Nothin’,” Daryl says with a scowl, leaning with his back against the counter. “You’d think the dude’s a master secret keeper, he’s so tight-lipped about it.”

 

“I once witnessed him accidentally telling the whole lunch table about Maggie’s ass mole and talk to him for a full day. How is he suddenly good at this?”

 

“Guess I’ve threatened his life one too many times that he’s finally learned how to keep his trap shut.”

 

“Nice goin’, dummy,” Carol says. “Tear apart some lettuce for the salad, will you?”

 

“Sure I won’t accidentally light it on fire?” Daryl deadpans as he takes a head of lettuce out of the fridge. He starts ripping the leaves into small pieces, tossing them into a salad bowl Carol has laid out while she snorts. “You got any guesses?” 

 

“She told us to pack clothes for moderate-to-warm temperatures, so nowhere cold, which was a rule, so that’s good. Also, we should like, pack.” 

 

“Eh, we’ll get to it,” Daryl says dismissively. “There’s that passport thing, too, which is real weird, by the way. I ain’t never had one of them before—my picture looks like a mugshot.”

 

“Yeah, I’ve never even entertained the  _ thought  _ that I’d be able to leave the country. The closest I ever came was being kind of close to Canada when we went to Minnesota when I was like, six or something. Maybe we’re going to Canada.”

 

“Ain’t Canada cold, though?” 

 

“I think only some parts are cold all the time. Some places are warm in the summer. Not exactly the first place that comes to mind when you think of romance. Though I guess they have Niagara Falls. That seems like something we’d be into.”

 

“Yeah, but don’t they speak French in some places in Canada? Glenn said there ain’t no French.”

 

“Well that’s a relief,” Carol says, grinning, pouring a carton of pasta into the rolling boil she’s got going. “That doesn’t narrow it down much, though. I’m still betting on island. There’s a lot of islands, though, so I think the big surprise will be which one.”

 

“You’re pro’ly right, it makes the most sense.”

 

“Would you be okay with an island?” Carol asks, opening a can of canned tomatoes into a saucepan and putting it on medium heat. 

 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asks. “How much lettuce am I supposed to put in this?”

 

“That should be enough, and I dunno. An island honeymoon kind of implies sitting around in a smarmy resort, getting pampered and waited on 24/7. Not really your scene.”

 

“Mm, yeah, you’re right. A whole week on an all-expense paid trip to a pretty island with my beautiful wife. How will I survive?” Daryl asks, tossing a piece of lettuce at Carol. She swats it away, laughing.

 

“Yeah, okay, point taken, you ass,” she says.

 

“‘Sides, we don’t even know if that’s for real where we’re goin’. Maybe she’s sendin’ us to North Korea. What else do you want in this?”

 

“Now that’s a real romantic getaway right there,” Carol says. “Wanna chop up some red onion for me?”

 

“Mhm,” Daryl says, getting a chopping board and an onion, cutting it up with very little strategy, resulting in several mismatched pieces. He tosses them into the bowl. “I don’t think we’re gonna guess it. Your aunt’s a goddamn angel, but she’s a bit of a weirdo. Who knows what sorta shit she could come up with?”

 

“A fair point, mon cheri,” Carol says. “We’ll find out soon enough, I suppose.”

 

“Guess so,” Daryl agrees. He’s got those anxious nerves running through his veins, but they’re not all bad—he’s got some excitement peppered in there too. He’s never been on a proper vacation before, say for a single high school road trip, and he’s curious to see what it’s like.

 

Turns out marriage is already full of new experiences, and so far? He’s all for it.

 

—-

 

Carol’s aunt keeps her mouth shut about the trip through a salad, a full plate of spaghetti, and two glasses of wine. Carol and Daryl but mostly Carol make polite conversation while picking at their own dinners, trying not to seem overeager, but not being able to focus on much else but The Reveal.

 

For dessert they share some of their left-over wedding cake with Barb. Daryl sneaks a little to Jesse and Josie, and Josie’s face when she takes a fistful chocolate cake and crams it into her mouth is like she’s spent ten months on the planet trying to figure it all out and at this very moment she understands everything.

 

“Um. I think I might have made a mistake,” Daryl says to Carol, as Josie bangs her hands on her high chair tray, demanding more. “I gave her a tiny piece of cake when you wasn’t looking and I think it might have unleashed somethin’ in her.”

 

“Oh my god, I’ve never seen her care about anything that intensely that wasn’t Henry. What have you done?” Carol asks, laughing when Josie reachers her chubby arms out as far as they’ll go, trying to grab more cake herself.

 

“I dunno. JJ’s bein’ normal about it,” Daryl says, nodding at Jesse, who is more interested in painting his tray with frosting than eating it. 

 

“Mamama mama ma mamamama!” Josie demands, throwing a handful of leftover cheerios on the ground. Henry, who’s been laying under the table, watching the twins intently, makes a quick move towards the cheerios and has them devoured before anyone has time to react. 

 

“This could be a problem,” Carol says, still laughing.

 

“I can’t decide if giving her more will make this better or worse,” Daryl says.

 

“It’s probably not a good precedent to set that if she throws tantrums she gets what she wants.” 

 

“But...she wants it.”

 

“She wanted to chew on a knife the other day, but we stopped her. Sometimes we gotta tell ‘em no, babe.”

 

“Oh, but that’s his baby girl,” Carol’s aunt says, a little red in the face from the third glass of wine she’s holding. Daryl was mortified to see she’d brought the “HOT BITCH” glass Merle had gotten her for Christmas. “Plus, you’re leaving them tomorrow. Let your husband spoil her a little.”

 

Josie rapid-fire babbles at Daryl, reminiscent of her brother except meaner, clearly demanding to be spoiled, preferably more than a little. Daryl looks at Carol for permission and she rolls her eyes.

 

“ _ One _ more taste,” she permits. “But Auntie, you gotta promise not to encourage this while we’re gone. She’s too little for chocolate.”

 

Josie disagrees with that assessment when Daryl gives her a bit more than Carol probably intended. The baby smushes the cake to her face, a white frosting, chocolate cake goatee surrounded her pouty, pink lips. Beside her Jesse is playing Picasso, concentrating hard on his frosting finger painting.

 

“Mmph mmph mmph,” Josie says through a full mouth. Daryl shakes his head.

 

“No more, darlin’, you’re gonna make yourself sick,” he says. When it becomes clear that Daryl means it, Josie breaks out into full-blown wails. At the base of her high chair, Henry whines in response, getting to his feet and licking her toes, startling her out of her tantrum.

 

“Here, play with the puppy,” Daryl says, lifting her out of her high chair and placing her on the floor next to Henry. Josie pats Henry on the head and Henry lays down and rests his snout on Josie’s lap. “Thanks bud,” Daryl tells the dog.

 

“The best babysitter we got after Auntie,” Carol says. “And I guess we learned something new about Josie. I think we have a chocolate fiend.” She then takes a huge bite of her own cake.

 

“Wonder where she gets that from,” Daryl says, smirking at Carol, who’s got a cake crumb in the corner of her mouth. For his own amusement he doesn’t mention it to her. Carol narrows her eyes at him, taking another, equally large bite.

 

“Okay,” Barb says, clapping her hands together suddenly, startling them. “It’s getting close to babies’ bedtime so maybe we should have a quick discussion before they get even more antsy. I’m guessing the two of you have got a few questions.”

 

“I mean, now that you mention it…” Carol says, while a dose of adrenaline fills Daryl’s stomach.

 

In lieu of words, Carol’s aunt picks her purse up off the ground and rifles through it until she pulls out two thin stacks of folded paper. She hands one to each of them.

 

“What’s this?” Carol asks, neither of them unfolding the small packets. 

 

“Tickets and itinerary,” Carol’s aunt says with a sly grin. “Go on now,” she encourages. “Take a look.”

 

Carol and Daryl exchange a glance before opening up their packets. The front page is a flight itinerary. He scans through it, trying to make sense out of all the letters and times. He focuses on the first departure and the final arrival. ATL-ATH. Atlanta, Georgia to Athens, Greece. He blinks. Surely he read that wrong. He seeks out Carol and finds her already looking at him, her face saying the same thing.

 

“Auntie...there’s no way this was less than $5000. The plane tickets alone…” Carol says. Her aunt waves a dismissive hand.

 

“Don’t you worry about the money,” she says. “If it’ll make you feel better, there was a deal with the airline so it’s not as bad as I’m sure you’re thinking. Now, if you’ll turn the page.”

 

Daryl and Carol turn the page to find a neatly typed up itinerary. Barb rattles on like a teacher going over the semester’s syllabus.

 

“You’ll get into Athens Sunday morning, and you’ll be staying at the City Circus hostel. I got you a private room, which I figured would be a nice compromise since I know the two of you would pitch a fit if I put you up in a fancy hotel. I hear this place is lovely. There’s a Greek breakfast served every morning that the online reviewers raved over.

 

“You’ll spend most of Sunday and all of Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday in Athens, but I  _ had  _ to give you an authentic honeymoon experience for at least a couple days, so you’ll fly out early Thursday morning to the island of Santorini, where I splurged a  _ teeny  _ bit and got you a room in an oceanside hotel. I know, I know, it’s extravagant, but indulge me. I’ve got no children of my own to spoil, and you two have become that to me.”

 

Daryl, baffled that Carol’s aunt seems to be apologizing for giving them a honeymoon like the people like Lamaze Class Jen have—a honeymoon that never, ever would have crossed their minds as plausible—has no clue of what to say. He waits for Carol to fill the silence, but she appears as lost as he.

 

“I’ve attached a list of things to do and must-sees in there,” Barb continues, unfazed by Daryl and Carol’s stunned silence. “I was talking to a woman in my true crime club. We were discussing the Golden State Killer—” Daryl squints but decides not to question it. “—When somehow we got on a tangent about how she spent a full month in Greece before her husband’s murder.” At Daryl and Carol’s blank stares, she adds nonchalantly, “The murder wasn’t in Greece. An ex stabbed him to death. Anyway, she told me of some great hole-in-the-wall places you should check out. Apparently, there’s a frozen yogurt place that’s to die for, if you’ll pardon the expression.”

 

Wordlessly, Carol pushes out her chair and walks up to her aunt. She wraps her arms around her and plants a kiss on her cheek.

 

“Thank you, Auntie,” she whispers.

 

“Like, a whole lot,” Daryl adds. “This...we ain’t never had no one do somethin’ like this for us. And we don’t thank you enough for all the help you give us with the twins. Just…” He shrugs, searching for the words. “The two of us ain’t had a great time when it comes to family, but you sure as hell make up for a lot of it.”

 

“Oh aren’t you two sweet,” Barb says, putting an arm around Carol’s shoulder and holding her like a mother would.

 

Suddenly, Carol frowns.

 

“Uh, Daryl,” she says. “Look at Josie.”

 

Daryl looks down and finds Josie balancing on two feet, watching Jesse intently. Out of nowhere, she takes several steady steps, like she’s been doing it her whole life, and goes straight for her brother’s highchair. She reaches up, hands barely grazing the tray, and makes an incomprehensible demand. Jesse glances down at her and, without hesitation, chucks a piece of his uneaten chocolate cake at her. Josie plops onto her butt and picks the cake up off the floor, stuffing it into her mouth. All three adults stare at her.

 

“The fuck?” Daryl says finally, breaking the silence.

 

“Girl really loves her chocolate, I guess,” Carol says, mouth partially agape. 

 

There’s another beat of silence before all three of them start laughing.

 

What a weird little family he has, Daryl thinks, scooping Josie up and covering her with proud smooches while she scrunches her chocolate-covered face. 

 

What an absolutely perfect one, too.

 

—-

 

_ July 8th _

_ Saturday _

 

Daryl already hated airports on principle because his first visit to one was to send Carol away from him for a full week, but now that he’s having firsthand experience with one, he can say with certainty that he doesn’t just hate airports—he  _ loathes  _ them.

 

Packing had been stressful because there’s so many unnecessary rules, and what if he accidentally brings a tube of toothpaste that’s four ounces instead of three? Will they refuse to let him board the plane? He’d had Carol inspect his packing job several times before he was as satisfied as he was going to get, which was not very.

 

By far the worst part of airports, however, is that his children aren’t with him. As excited as he is to spend quality time with Carol in a foreign country he has a once in a lifetime opportunity to visit, saying goodbye to the twins had been gutting. He must have kissed them ten times each before Carol forced him away. 

 

And now he’s inside the Atlanta airport, and the energy inside is so chaotic he wonders if the two of them should have gotten on the bike and done a cross-country road trip instead.

 

“I promise it’s not as intimidating as it looks,” Carol says, gripping his elbow when she realizes he’s stopped dead in his tracks. “We check our bags, go through security, find our gate, and get on the plane. Easy peasy.”

 

Daryl is doubtful, but he has no choice but to play along.

 

“You got your passport?” Daryl asks. He has asked this twelve times.

 

“Yes,” Carol answers for the twelfth time. “And so do you. Come on, let’s go get the hard parts over with.”

 

Carol guides them through the check-in process, and when the front desk lady hands him his boarding passes, Daryl holds onto them like they’re hundred dollar bills, his tight grip making finger imprints in the stiff paper. Following Carol like a lost puppy, they get into the security line, which may actually be what Hell is like.

 

Daryl is stuck in the midst of equally stressed out passengers, all trying to prepare themselves for the actual security check. In front of him there’s a mother fussing with her little girl’s Hello Kitty backpack, and behind him there’s a man in a business suit who keeps craning his neck to see over the crowd, and then checking his watch and huffing. Irritable, unamused TSA agents survey the line, repeating the same instructions over and over in loud, monotone voices.

 

_ Remove any electronics bigger than your phone from your bags. _

 

_ Have any liquids in a secure baggie; anything over three point four ounces or a hundred milliliters will be confiscated. _

 

_ Remove all jackets, belts, and shoes and place them in the tubs provided. _

 

Daryl’s trying to keep it all straight when they reach the front of the line. A TSA agent signs their boarding passes and beckons them through, and Daryl begins the awkward security check dance. It’s like trying to shove all his money back into his wallet before the person after him gets to the cashier at the grocery store. Carol goes through the motions swiftly and smoothly, carrying herself with confidence, but Daryl feels like he’s on a timed obstacle course and failing.

 

Why the fuck did Carol let him wear boots? He’s fumbling with his laces. He digs through his backpack for his quart-sized baggie of hygiene products. He undoes his belt and wonders if this is supposed to feel like a strip show. He can’t decide if his vest falls under the same category as jackets, so he slips it off to be on the safe side. He stares at his left hand and reluctantly takes off his wedding ring, just in case. He shoves it all into a tub and places it on the conveyor belt, along with his backpack.

 

Carol walks through the metal detector first. Or at least, that’s what Daryl thinks it is, although he’s never seen one like this before. They have her stand with her feet apart and her hands above her head, while some mechanism encircles her, searching her for contraband.

 

Frankly, Daryl feels he’d rather risk a bomb on the plane rather than going through all this nonsense, but then, no one asked him for his advice on homeland security.

 

The TSA agent motions Dary forward once his wife has been deemed clean. He takes a step, a dull ache crawling up his thigh as it’s wont to do, but this time it makes him stop in his tracks. Huffing guy behind him huffs.

 

“Wait,” Daryl tells the TSA agent. “I’m made of metal.”

 

The TSA agent blinks at him.

 

“What?” he asks, his expression never changing from one that looks like someone just stole his parking spot.

 

“No, not me. My leg, I mean,” Daryl says, tripping over his words.

 

“You’ve got a metal leg?” the TSA agent asks. Huffing guy huffs louder.

 

“A metal rod in my left thigh.”

 

“Go through and we’ll do a pat down if we gotta,” says the TSA agent, already moving along to the next person.

 

“Uh…’kay,” Daryl mumbles to himself. He steps into the maybe-metal-detector / maybe-technology-brought-from-the-future-machine, and follows the picture instructions in front of him, holding his hands above his head with his legs spread, feeling vulnerable and stupid.

 

Daryl gets out of the contraption and waits a few seconds, worrying about being manually searched. A screen beeps with a green checkmark and another bored TSA agent waves him away. Daryl breathes a sigh of relief.

 

“I heard you telling them you’re made of metal, cyborg,” Carol says, grinning, holding his shoes out to him.

 

“Shut up,” he says, taking his shoes and searching the conveyor belt for the rest of his things that Carol hasn’t already grabbed. He slips his wedding band back on before anything else. “I’m glad we ain’t got no money to travel a lot. I think I might hate flying.”

 

“We haven’t even gotten to the flying part yet,” Carol reminds him as he stuffs his hygiene baggie back into his backpack carelessly.

 

“Then let’s get to that part and get as far from this dumb security line as possible,” says Daryl, shouldering his backpack.

 

“Wanna put your clothes back on first?” Carol asks, smirking at him trying to juggle his boots, belt, and vest in his hands. He twists his mouth.

 

“Might be a good idea,” he agrees.

 

—-

 

“This is way bigger than the ones I rode before,” Carol says, as she and Daryl board the plane.   
  


“You’re lucky you married me and not Glenn ‘cause he woulda made a ‘that’s what she said’ joke right then,” Daryl says.

 

“I think it still counts as one if you bring it up.”

 

“Mm,” Daryl hums, but he’s too distracted to make a rebuttal. He’s on an actual fucking airplane, and it’s really fucking cool.

 

From what he’s gathered from Carol, domestic planes are much tinier and more crowded, but this plane matches his mental image of what an airplane is supposed to look like. It’s three rows wide, and the back of every seat has a little TV screen and copies of SkyMall slid inside a pocket. People are cramming bags and suitcases into overhead bins, and are playing a complicated game of human Tetris, trying to find their seats. Usually the tight quarters with so much bustle would stress Daryl out, but his anxiety is temporarily subdued as he soaks up every detail of his bizarre surroundings.

 

“This don’t feel real,” Daryl says quietly, leaning forward so only Carol can hear. “This is a type of thing other people do, not a thing  _ I _ do.”

 

“It is today,” Carol says, casting him a kind smile over her shoulder. “I’d say we’re past due for some spoiling, wouldn’t you?”

 

Daryl can’t argue with that. He shuffles down the aisle, trailing only a breath’s distance away from Carol, until she stops suddenly at a row and checks her boarding pass.

 

“This is us,” she tells him. “You take the window seat.”

 

“You’re the one it’s assigned to,” Daryl points out.

 

“But you’re the one who’s never been on a plane before, so go on now, you’re holding up the line.”

 

Frowning, Daryl maneuvers himself past the first two seats in his row, his shit leg protesting as he goes. He collapses onto the seat beside the window and shoves his backpack into the space in front of his feet. He glances out of the window and watches the people down below on the tarmac load luggage. He can see one of the plane’s wings, and it’s gigantic.

 

“Neat, huh?” Carol says, taking her spot--that’s technically his—next to him. 

 

“Real neat,” Daryl agrees. Turning away from the window he takes Carol’s hand and kisses her knuckles. “Guess we’re goin’ on an adventure,” he says.

 

“Guess so,” Carol says, lacing her fingers through his.

 

“How’s this work again?” Daryl asks. “We fly for like, half a day and then our layover is in Istanbul?” 

 

“Yeah, it’s like a two and a half hour layover, and then we’ll fly from there to Athens. The tickets say we’ll land there at like, nearly nine in the morning tomorrow.” 

 

“These don’t sound like places that even exist outside of like, movies and geography books.”

 

“It’ll be really awkward to go to a place that doesn’t exist, then,” Carols says, laughing when Daryl smacks her playfully on the arm.

 

A minute or so later, a young Turkish woman juggling a diaper bag, a carry-on suitcase, and a very small baby stops beside their row. She looks at Daryl and Carol and gives a shy, apologetic smile, as though she thinks they’re going to be pissed about being sat beside the person with the baby.

 

Of course the opposite is true, at least in Daryl’s case. Not having his own kids, or even a Tuesday afternoon greeting with Ryan, Daryl will take his baby fixes wherever he can get them. The woman fumbles around, trying to lift her suitcase into one of the overhead bins without jostling her son strapped to her chest in a baby wrap. Daryl wants to offer to hold him, but, for one thing, he doesn’t talk to strangers, and for another, she’s already receiving help from the gentleman behind her who takes her suitcase and stores it away for her with a friendly smile.

 

The woman puts the diaper bag under the seat in front of her and then takes her spot by the aisle. She ducks her chin to look down at her baby, rubbing his back and mumbling softly to him in a language Daryl doesn’t understand. Daryl would guess that the baby couldn’t be more than a few months at most, and he’s suddenly flush with concerns about whether or not altitude and air pressure changes are bad for infants. They probably wouldn’t let the baby on board if it is, but he worries anyway.

 

“I miss Jesse and Josie,” Carol says quietly to Daryl.

 

“Same,” Daryl says, gut twisting at the thought of not even being in the same country as the twins for a week.

 

“It’ll be good, though,” Carol says. “We can miss them and have fun at the same time.” 

 

As if on cue, Daryl’s phone vibrates in his pocket. He takes it out and opens his messages. 

 

(10:13a) ~ _ dumbass sent a photo _ ~

 

(10:13a) ~you haven’t even been gone five hours and your kids are throwing a party.~

 

Daryl snorts and shows Carol the picture of Jesse and Jose at Glenn’s house playing with red solo cups, wearing leftover Fourth of July party hats.

 

“Figured they wouldn’t do something like that until they were teenagers,” Carol says, smiling at their children being tormented by their friends. “I’m glad everyone’s tag-teaming babysitting duty so Auntie doesn’t get it all, but I think our friends are bad influences.”

 

“Pro’ly, but we ain’t any good at making new ones,” Daryl says, and Carol concedes the point.

 

(10:15a) -carol said u guys r bad influences-

 

(10:16a) >We’re the best influences. We’re gonna teach your kids how to be cool, since you obviously can’t.<

 

(10:17a) -k but whos gna teach u?-

 

(10:18a) ~shouldn’t you be in the sky, asshole?~

 

(10:19a) -actually yeah theyre sayin 2 turn fones off now ig-

 

(10:19a) -u got lucky-

 

(10:19a) -tell jojo n jj their momma n daddy luv the hell outta them-

 

(10:20a) >Will do, brother.<

 

(10:20a) ~safe flight, dude. let us know when you get to turkey.~

 

(10:21a) -aight-

 

(10:21a) -thnx n ttyl-

 

Daryl sets his phone on airplane mode, which it will be on until they return to the United States next Sunday, and leans down to put it in his backpack. A woman comes on over the intercom and tells them that they will be taking off shortly, and to please pay attention to the safety demonstration. Daryl secures his flimsy seatbelt he’s not convinced would do jackshit in the event of a plane crash, and follows along with the flight attendants.

 

“I’d have to physically fight you to get you to put your oxygen mask on before the kids,” Carol says when the flight attendants make special note of attending to your own needs before your children’s.

 

“I ain’t gonna let them suffocate,” Daryl argues.

 

“You wouldn’t be able to help them with anything if you pass out,” Carol says, and Daryl sticks his tongue out at her.

 

The plane is taxiing towards the runway. This is the part Daryl has been the most excited for. He glues his eyes to the window and waits.

 

“We’ve been cleared for takeoff,” the captain says over the intercom. “Sit back and enjoy the flight.”

 

The plane starts moving, faster and faster, until it’s suddenly going at breakneck speed, and Daryl feels like he’s in a rocket ship blasting off as the sound of the wheels burning the pavement fills his ears. They start to angle upwards, higher and higher, and then they’re airborne. Daryl sees Atlanta below him. The city starts out with recognizable features, like the traffic down on the freeway, and the skyscrapers downtown, but it fades until it’s nothing but blocks of greens, browns, and greys, interrupted by the occasional wisp of cloud as they soar through the sky. 

 

“Damn,” is all Daryl has to say when he finally makes himself look away. “You shoulda kept the window.”

 

Carol shakes her head, a soft expression on her face. She gives him a quick peck on the cheek. 

 

“No way,” she says. “I’ll sit in a million middle seats if it means I get to see you look like that.”

 

“Like what?” Daryl asks. Carol smiles.

 

“Like you’re seeing something new.”

 

—-

 

It takes two hours for the baby to decide he’s had enough of this airplane bullshit and would like to get off now, thank you very much.

 

Daryl’s all-too familiar with the cry the baby makes. In his mother’s arms he’s sobbing from deep in his chest, as forcefully as his little lungs can muster. He is  _ pissed _ .

 

After the baby rejects food and a diaper change, the young woman holds her son flush against her, patting him between his shoulder blades and bouncing him lightly, trying to get him to calm down. The baby isn’t having it, and continues to wail like the world is ending. The young woman looks over the top of her son’s head at Carol and Daryl with worried eyes. 

 

“I am sorry,” she says, trying and failing to get her son to take his pacifier.

 

Carol, who had been resting her head on Daryl while they shared a pair of headphones and watched a movie, takes the earbud out and sits up straight, smiling kindly at her.

 

“He’s been so good so far,” she says. “Guess he decided it was time to fuss.” Carol gestures at Daryl and adds, “This guy is a baby whisperer. Do you want him to hold your little guy for a few minutes to give you a break?”

 

Daryl takes out his own earbud, not saying anything, but offering the young woman a smile that he hopes says, ‘please let me hold your baby.’

 

The young woman twists her mouth.

 

“It is not necessary,” she says. “I wish not to be trouble.”

 

“You’re not trouble, you’re a tired momma, and trust me, we get it.”

 

“You have children?”

 

“Mhm. Twins. A boy and a girl. They just turned ten months old.” Carol frowns, and to Daryl says, “Holy crap, are our kids really ten months old?” 

 

“Right?” he says sympathetically, just as aghast at how quickly his babies are growing. 

 

“You want to hold him? It is not trouble?” the young woman asks, addressing Daryl. He gives an enthusiastic nod, and carefully the young woman hands the baby over to Daryl, reaching across Carol. Daryl cradles the baby in his arms, resting his head in the crook of his elbow. The infant stops crying long enough to register his change in surroundings, and then decides he doesn’t give a shit and starts right back up.

 

With his free hand, Daryl starts a gentle caress down both of the baby’s cheeks with his middle finger and thumb. After a few seconds of this, the baby’s crying wanes, softer and softer, until his eyes start drooping and he isn’t crying at all. Daryl strokes the baby’s cheeks for another minute before the little guy slips right into sleep. Daryl looks up at Carol and the young woman, feeling accomplished. Carol seems entertained yet unsurprised, meanwhile the young woman is looking at him like he’s simply brilliant.

 

 “You know tricks,” she exclaims, laughing. 

 

“Always worked on my son when he was teeny tiny,” Daryl says shrugging. “My daughter not so much, but that’s just ‘cause she only ever cries when she wants somethin’. She don’t need soothin’ that much.”

 

Daryl doesn’t love talking to strangers, but with Carol as a buffer between them, and with his kids the topic of conversation, it doesn’t bother him so much. He puts his index finger in the baby’s fist and the baby wraps his whole hand around it instinctively. Daryl feels a bittersweet pang in his gut. To Carol he asks, “Don’t you miss it when they was this little?”

 

“No,” Carol says flatly. “And until we’re out of debt, neither do you.” But she’s watching the baby with a soft expression all the same.

 

“How old is he?” Daryl asks the young woman.

 

“He has two months on the 17th,” she says, holding up two fingers.

 

“What’s his name?” 

 

“Demir.”

 

“What’s  _ your _ name?” Carol asks.

 

“Ada. And you?” 

 

“Carol, and this is my husband, Daryl.”

 

Daryl’s heart still skips a beat whenever she calls him that.

 

“You go to Turkey or you go to another country?” Ada asks.

 

“Athens,” Carol says. “We’re going to Greece for a week before heading back home to boring ol’ Georgia. You?” 

 

“I come to United States to visit my sister. She studies to be engineer.” 

 

“You travelled all this way alone with a newborn baby?” Carol asks. “That’s impressive.”

 

“My husband, he works, and my sister would not have different chance to meet Demir.” 

 

“When my kids were two months old I could barely take them to the store, let alone to a different country,” Carol says, leaving out the part about the crippling postpartum depression. “Kudos to you, he’s really well-behaved, all things considered.”

 

“Thank you,” Ada says. “It is hard to travel with him sometimes. He is first baby for me. I do not always know what things are right to do.” 

 

Both Carol and Daryl nod with identical snorts of agreement.

 

“Us either,” Carol assures her. “But we do the best we can, and hope it doesn’t mess the kids up too much.”

 

Ada’s laugh turns into a yawn.

 

“You can rest for a bit if you’d like,” Carol tells her. “Demir is safe, it’s not like we could kidnap him on an airplane or anything.”

 

Ada seems to consider this. She says, “No trouble?” 

 

“Nah, no trouble,” Daryl says, glancing down at the sleeping baby and missing his twins desperately. “We’re just fine.”

 

“I will close my eyes for one minute,” Ada assures them. Carol grins.

 

“A new mom’s famous last words,” she says. 

 

Daryl leans back in his seat, clouds rushing past his window, Demir breathing softly in his arms.

 

—-

 

(4:43a) -wuts the mile high club?-

 

(4:45a) ~hahahaha!~

 

(4:45a) >Rofllll<

 

(4:46a) -?-

 

(4:46a) -carol made a joke abt joining the mile high club n i asked wut it was n she wont tell me n im scared 2 google it-

 

(4:47a) >It’s when you have sex on an airplane.<

 

(4:48a) -...oh-

 

(4:48a) -tht explains y tht dude who overheard us choked on his drink laffing-

 

(4:49a) ~so are you gonna join the mile high club?~

 

(4:49a) >Or maybe you did already?<

 

(4:50a) -guess-

 

(4:51a) >Most definitely.<

 

(4:51a) ~without a doubt.~

 

(4:52a) - :/ -

 

(4:52a) -anyway im not in the country anymore-

 

(4:53a) ~are you in turducken?~

 

(4:53a) ~that’s not even a commonly used word autocorrect, what the fuck??~

 

(4:54a) >Little known historical fact: After a horrible, bloody war, Turkey signed a treaty with the countries of Chicken and Duck and they decided to merge together into one single nation.<

 

(4:55a) -think i read abt tht in history class-

 

(4:56a) ~i hope you both get mauled by wild animals and die of rabies.~

 

(4:57a) -lol yes we’re in turkey-

 

(4:57a) -which is real weird 2 think abt like we’re in europe wtf?-

 

(4:58a) >How was the plane ride?<

 

(4:59a) -long-

 

(4:59a) -rly rly rly fukn long-

 

(5:00a) ~did you guys get any sleep?~

 

(5:01a) -not enuf 2 not b super out of it-

 

(5:01a) -our 1st day in greece mite involve naps-

 

(5:01a) -i got 2 hold this ladys bb 4 a long time tho n he was cute n small-

 

(5:01a) -speaking of-

 

(5:01a) -how r my cute n small bbs?-

 

(5:03a) > _ grp prjct rick sent a photo _ <

 

(5:03a) >Knocked out. They partied too hard.<

 

(5:04a) - :( -

 

(5:04a) -did u tell them gnite from us?-

 

(5:05a) ~yes. jesse gave a long winded speech on the matter and josie ignored us and drank her bottle.~ 

 

(5:06a) -sounds abt rite-

 

(5:06a) -they prob dnt even care that we’re gone-

 

(5:07a) ~i’m pretty sure they were looking for you guys. even josie was waddling around like she was trying to find something.~

 

(5:08a) -o no :((( -

 

(5:08a) -they think we abandoned them-

 

(5:08a) -wake them up n tell them we didnt abandon them-

 

(5:09a) >They are just fine, Daryl. They were really well behaved (mostly) for us and they’re spending the whole week with people who love and spoil them rotten. Enjoy your vacation, your little monkeys are taken care of.< 

 

(5:09a) ~we promise.~

 

(5:10a) -ugh ok-

 

(5:10a) -but if we come home n they 4got who we r im gna cry a whole lot-

 

(5:11a) >They won’t forget you.<

 

(5:11a) ~but they’re also not gonna be scarred for life because you went on vacation.~

 

(5:12a) -thank u-

 

(5:13a) >Our pleasure, brother.<

 

(5:13a) ~now go on an adventure and have sex with your wife in a foreign country.~

 

(5:13a) >Or in the sky.<

 

(5:13a) ~or both!~

 

(5:14a) -k bye im done now-

 

(5:15a) >Rofl. Safe travels!<

 

(5:16a) ~and remember to turn the sign to occupied when you screw around in the airplane lavatories!~

 

—-

 

_ July 9th _

_ Sunday _

 

Daryl doesn’t register the magnitude of being in Greece right away, because he’s too tied up dealing with more of the endless airport bullshit. Customs is worse than basic security, which, if you had asked him yesterday, he never would have thought possible. He gives his passport to a severe looking woman who examines his awful passport photo and then regards him up and down.

 

“What is the purpose of your visit?” she asks sternly in a thick Greek accent, and Daryl knows she’s just doing her job, but his heart quickens anyway, some dumb part of his brain telling him they’re going to deem him unfit to enter the country and will make him turn right back around, back to Georgia, and he can’t handle that, both because it’s his honeymoon, and also because if he sees the inside of another plane today he may riot. Cool as they might be, eleven hours on one is too goddamn long.

 

“Uh? Vacation?” he mutters. “Me and her.” He gestures at Carol beside him. The Customs agent has her passport, too.

 

The Customs agent stares at them a beat too long to be comfortable before pressing her stamp down into her ink pad and marking both passports.

 

“Welcome to Greece,” she says unwelcomingly. 

 

“Thank you,” Carol says, and Daryl nods. They step past the Custom agent’s booth and officially and legally arrive to their destination. They exchange a side-long glance and crack up laughing.

 

“Now what?” Carol asks him.

 

“Beats me,” Daryl says, slipping his passport back inside his backpack. “Guess we go get our bags and figure out how to get to our hostel?”

 

“Do you know what time it is?”

 

“Uh…” Daryl pulls out his phone and frowns. “It’s on airplane mode so it ain’t changed from eastern time. We’re, what, seven hours ahead?” He does the math in his head. “Jesus fuck, it’s only nine thirty in the goddamn morning.”

 

“I get that whole jet lag thing now. I thought I was tired when I went from eastern time to pacific time on my San Diego trip.”

 

“Yeah, well, you was also pregnant so that don’t even count.”

 

“Coming home will be even more confusing; longest day of our lives, literally.” 

 

“Let’s not think about it,” Daryl suggests. “Let’s figure out how to get where we’re goin’ and worry about the rest later.”

 

They make their way through the airport. Daryl’s deep south brain is thrown off kilter by all the signs in Greek with the English written below in smaller font. 

 

“If Auntie had given us more time to prepare I could have done some of the Greek Duolingo modules,” Carol says, squinting up at what must say, “Baggage Claim,” but Daryl only can guess from context clues.

 

“Baby, you’re the smartest person I know, and you got a whole lotta skills, but language learnin’ ain’t one of ‘em.”

 

“Rude,” Carol says, snagging her bag off the conveyor belt, but there’s no bite to her tone, because Daryl isn’t wrong.

 

Daryl is grateful he’s not here alone when they have to figure out the metro system. Daryl’s never been on a train in his entire life, and it doesn’t help that half of the buttons on the ticket machine are in a completely different alphabet. They tag team it as Daryl figures out the maps and routes, and Carol figures out the money and the metro passes.

 

It’s a bit past rush hour when they make it down to the station, but there are still enough people around to make Daryl tense. He lets Carol lead him through everything. On the train, he sits beside her on an old, yellow seat. There’s a teenage girl sitting adjacent to them, speaking to someone on the phone in lightning-fast Greek. Standing at a pole in front of them are two men in suits speaking a language that, if Daryl had to guess, is Arabic, but he could be way off. He doesn’t hear any of the other passengers speaking English. 

 

Daryl balances his suitcase against his knees, his backpack on his lap, and tries to quell his anxiety.

 

“It’s not all gonna be so crazy,” Carol says, nudging him with her shoulder, reading him like a book. “There won’t be anyone rushing us to do anything once we get there. We can explore at our own pace.”

 

Daryl gives her a small smile.

 

“I know,” he says. He takes her hand, lacing their fingers together, and he feels her wedding ring brush against his skin. They wait for their stop as the train rushes along the tracks.

 

—-

 

“Whoa.”

 

They say it simultaneously when they exit the metro station and see Athens for the first time.

 

In the not-so-distant distance stands the Acropolis. Daryl’s seen it in pictures before, of course, but this isn’t a picture. He’s standing in a random city square full of people chatting, walking, sitting—being every day human beings—while in the background of it all there’s this giant ancient ruin looming. The juxtapositioning is unnerving, like the two images are photoshopped together, but they  _ aren’t _ , and holy shit, it’s all  _ real _ .

 

All at once, Daryl understands what the fuss over traveling is about.

 

“That’s incredible,” Carol says, seeming as awed as him.

 

“It is,” Daryl agrees, dissociated from the weight of it all.

 

“C’mon,” Carol says, her keen senses picking up on how he’s having trouble comprehending everything. “We’ll have plenty of time to look at it, but hostel first.”

 

There isn’t a train that takes them right to the hostel’s front door, but the walk isn’t long, and there’s plenty to take in. Everything seems condensed here, the buildings scrunched together, the streets oddly narrow. There are components of old and new scattered throughout all of the infrastructure. It’s a modern city built with the bones of ancient history.

 

The streets and people and cars are current and recognizable, and they’re intermixed with columns on the stores and mosaic sidewalks under their feet. There’s graffiti spray painted on the sides of buildings that look hundreds of years old. Even the things that are the same here are different.

 

Checking into the hostel is a fairly harmless experience. The front desk receptionist is an Australian man in a tank top who checks them in, gives them the rules and key cards, and tells them where to go. Other travelers mosey around the lobby area, and there are signs up advertising the restaurant connected to the hostel, and listing group activities that are offered daily, such as guided tours and wine tasting. Daryl has already decided not to be a part of anything that has “group” in the name, and he’s confident Carol feels the same.

 

Carol’s aunt booked them the room on the very top floor—one of the only private rooms, and certainly the most expensive. The elevator is full of mirrors, which takes them both off guard, and they both grimace at their own reflections; hours upon hours of international travel have not treated them well in regards to their appearances. 

 

Up at the top where the weird, mirror-filled elevator lets them off, they find that their room has direct access to the roof, where there’s a patio with a perfect view of the Acropolis in the distance. Right now there are others occupying the space, but the sign on the wall states the roof is closed off to the rest of the hostel after 10pm, and then it’s just for them.

 

The room itself is basic. There’s a neatly made bed, a desk, and a bathroom with a toilet, sink, and shower. It reminds Daryl of Glenn’s dorm room in Savannah, which is perfect. Barb picked wisely—there is enough privacy to let them celebrate their honeymoon like honeymooners should, but it’s not decked out with unnecessary flash and gaudy decoration to make them pretend they’ve come from money.

 

(He imagines she’s saved that for Santorini.)

 

“Is it weird that I love this room?” Carol asks, on Daryl’s same wave-length.

 

“Nah, I do, too,” Daryl says, leaning his suitcase against the wall and putting his backpack on the ground. He startles when Carol wraps her arms around him from behind. He turns to face her and she moves her arms to drape them loosely around his neck. He holds her hips and smiles warmly at her.

 

“Happy honeymoon,” she says. She’s got dark shadows under her eyes, and her hair is falling out of an elastic band that’s doing it’s best. He leans in and gives her a long, gentle kiss.

 

“Happy honeymoon,” he echoes back at her. “What do you wanna do first?”

 

“Honestly?” Carol asks. Daryl nods. “I wanna take a fucking nap.”

 

“Oh thank God,” Daryl says, eyes already threatening to droop at the mere thought of sleep.

 

“Not for too long—we don’t wanna screw our sleep schedule too bad—but enough to feel human again. And then we can shower and explore a little. Definitely at least go find some food.”

 

“Works for me.”

 

“Good. Also, hand me that note with the wifi password on it so I can message my aunt and tell her we made it safe.”

 

“Thank her again for me,” Daryl says, handing her a card the receptionist gave them with wifi information, and the times when breakfast is served.

 

After Carol sends a text to Barb, and Daryl sends one to the groupchat, they take off their shoes and collapse in bed, not bothering to put on anything but what they’re already wearing. They don’t wait for a response from the crew back in Georgia—it’s smack dab in the middle of the night there. Instead, they get under the covers, spooning together tight, and officially starting their vacation with a well-earned nap.

 

—-

 

(2:27p) - _ you sent a photo _ -

 

(2:27p) -this is the best food ive ever eaten i cant come back home-

 

(2:31p) > _ grp prjct rick sent a photo _ <

 

(2:31) >What should we tell these sleepy lil ones then?<

 

(2:32p) -nvm we’ll come home-

 

(2:32p) -did they just wake up? jojos hair looks real silly theyre so cute-

 

(2:33p) ~jesse woke up first and then talked so much that he woke up his sister.~

 

(2:33p) ~apparently you’ve yet to teach your kids that you’re supposed to sleep in after a sleepover.~

 

(2:36p) -the 1st slpovr i ever had tht wasnt carol falling aslp on my couch was whn we drank cinnabon vodka n i puked 4 times i aint the person 2 teach em shit like tht-

 

(2:36p) -carol says 2 tell the kids gud morning n tht we luv them-

 

(2:38p) >90% of what you’ve got us telling these kids is that you love and miss them.<

 

(2:38p) ~yeah come up with something original.~

 

(2:39p) -tell them theyre allowed 2 leave dirty diapers all over ur house-

 

(2:40p) ~hard pass.~

 

(2:40p) ~anyway, how’s greece?~

 

(2:42p) -this restaurant is the 1st place sides our hostel that we been 2-

 

(2:42p) -jet lag is real af-

 

(2:42p) -food is gr8 tho-

 

(2:43p) ~ _ dumbass sent a photo _ ~

 

(2:43p) ~is it better than cheerios and mashed bananas?~

 

(2:45p) -ya but dnt tell the twins tht i dnt wnt them 2 b jealous-

 

(2:46p) >Just us, right?<

 

(2:47p) -rite-

 

(2:48p) ~so what delicious things are you eating?~

 

(2:49p) -this grilled meat thing called like-

 

(2:49p) -fuk idk how 2 spell it-

 

(2:49p) -souplatvia or smthn-

 

(2:50p) -carol read tht over my shoulder n laffed @ me but wont tell me how 2 spell it :/ -

 

(2:51p) >Souvlakia?< 

 

(2:52p) -yeah tht-

 

(2:53p) >Cool. Anyway: <

 

(2:53p) > _ grp prjct rick changed the group name to “Soup Latvia: Land of Latvian Soup” _ <

 

(2:54p) -ur hilarious-

 

(2:54p) -anyway i g2g we’re gna go exploring-

 

(2:55p) >Have fun.<

 

(2:55p) ~we’re gonna clean up all the cheerios josie keeps throwing.~

 

(2:56p) -o yeah she does tht sry-

 

(2:57p) >Jesse won’t eat it all either but he just makes food paintings by smearing it all over his tray.<

 

(2:58p) -yeah he does tht sry-

 

(2:58p) -thnx 4 taking care of em lol-

 

(2:59p) ~ha ha.~

 

(2:59p) >Barb gets them tonight.<

 

(3:00p) -dnt let her give jojo chocolate-

 

(3:01p) >We’ll try our best.<

 

(3:01p) ~scout’s honor.~

 

(3:02p) -shes gna give her chocolate huh?-

 

(3:03p) ~almost definitely.~

 

(3:04p) -ya well-

 

(3:04p) -thts a prob 4 l8r daryl-

 

(3:04p) -rn daryl is gna go look @ cool old buildings w/ his hot wife-

 

(3:05p) >Vacation looks good on you, brother.<

 

(3:05p) ~amen.~

 

—-

 

_ July 10th _

_ Monday _

 

(11:05p) - _ you sent a photo _ -

 

(11:05p) - _ you sent a photo _ -

 

(11:05p) - _ you sent a photo _ -

 

(11:06p) -saw the thing 2day-

 

(11:08p) >By “thing” do you mean the very famous Acropolis?<

 

(11:09p) -ya-

 

(11:11p) ~how was it?~

 

(11:12p) -rly wild tbh-

 

(11:12p) -seeing shit like tht makes u feel sum type of way-

 

(11:12p) -like sorta small n young n like the time u been on earth aint nthn compared 2 how long ppl in general have been arnd-

 

(11:13p) >Are you having an existential crisis?<

 

(11:14p) -idk wut tht means-

 

(11:15p) ~are you feeling emotions about the purpose, or lack thereof, of your existence?~

 

(11:16p) -kinda?-

 

(11:16p) -but i kinda liked how it made me feel 2-

 

(11:16p) -like shits happened 4 thousands of yrs n ppl r still kickin so i can handle w/e happens cuz thts wut ppl do-

 

(11:17p) -plus i had carol there n it made me real gr8ful 2 have her-

 

(11:17p) -idk it was a lot-

 

(11:17p) -4 both of us i think. carols alrdy aslp n im almost there-

 

(11:18p) ~it sounds rewarding but like, kind of exhausting?~

 

(11:19p) -basically-

 

(11:20p) >How’s your leg holding up?<

 

(11:21p) -i had 2 use my cane 2day cuz it was a lot of walking n i had 2 sit down more thn i wnted but i didnt fall down or nthn-

 

(11:22p) ~does it hurt?~

 

(11:23p) -ya but itd hurt more if carol n me hadnt split like half a bottle of wine lol-

 

(11:23p) -dnt tell my bro but i think i like wine more thn liquor he’ll disown me-

 

(11:25p) >Your secret is safe with me, and probably even Glenn, I’m still impressed he kept the Greece thing underwraps.<

 

(11:26p) -ya tht was annoying-

 

(11:27p) ~ha! get fucked.~

 

(11:29p) >Rofl.<

 

(11:29p) >Are you having a good time so far? I imagine it’s a little overwhelming for a homebody, but is it worth it?<

 

(11:30p) -obvi i miss my bbs like hell n id nvr like live here or smthn but yes-

 

(11:30p) -im havin a gud time-

 

(11:30p) -esp cuz carols real happy n its hard not 2 b happy 2 whn shes all smiley n giggly-

 

(11:30p) -itll b nice 2 b home but i dnt wna leave just yet-

 

(11:31p) ~i’m glad. if anyone deserves this it’s you guys.~

 

(11:31p) >Seriously. Go all out with it, you’ve earned it.< 

 

(11:32p) -u kno wut?-

 

(11:32p) -we totally have-

 

(11:33p) ~damn straight. so what wild shit are you gonna go do tomorrow?~

 

(11:34p) -gna go back 2 this frozen yogurt place we’ve alrdy eaten @ twice-

 

(11:35p) >Damn, you guys party hard.<

 

(11:35p) ~when in athens, amirite?~

 

(11:36p) -lol sure-

 

(11:37p) >Send us pics of your yogurt!< 

 

(11:38p) -they put corn flakes n apples in it-

 

(11:39p) ~the fuck?~

 

(11:40p) -im like legit xcited 2 get more lol~

 

(11:41p) ~this is daryl letting his hair down. he’s a secret yogurt fanatic.~

 

(11:42p) >Worse things to be? I guess?<

 

(11:43p) -lol im gna go 2 slp i had 2 much wine n walking-

 

(11:44p) ~night, dude. dream sweet dreams of frozen yogurt.~

 

(11:45p) -alrdy am-

 

—-

 

_ July 12th _

_ Wednesday _

 

Daryl comes out of the room carrying two glasses of wine in his hands. He takes extra care not to spill any, as his limp is more pronounced after walking more than usual for several days in a row. He couldn’t care less about the pain in his leg, however, when he sees Carol curled up on the wicker loveseat on the roof patio, looking out at the city. 

 

It’s a sight. She’s in a loose, flowy dress, with her hair down, the curls cascading down her back. She’s barefoot with her legs kicked up under her. From where he’s standing he can just make out the Acropolis, lit up and glowing against the night sky. Feeling his eyes on her, Carol turns her head towards him, and her face instantly softens into a look of pure love, and it really is something to make someone look at you so adoringly just for existing.

 

“Are you pretending to be Auntie?” Carol asks, nodding at the wine in his hands. He huffs a laugh as he limps up onto the patio. She scoots over to make room beside her. He hands her a glass, which she takes with a murmured thanks, and then leans into him as he wraps an arm around her. They sip their wine and watch the skyline.

 

“Last night in Athens,” Daryl says eventually. Carol hums.

 

“Last night,” she repeats. 

 

“Don’t know much about that island your aunt’s got us goin’ to.”

 

“It’s a popular honeymoon destination, or so the internet says. I’m sure it’ll be lovely,” and there’s a hint of melancholy in her voice. Daryl squeezes her arm lightly.

 

“What is it?” he asks.

 

“Nothing. I really do think it’ll be lovely. I’m just conflicted, you know? Who knows when we’ll see this again? If we ever will? And it’s like I’m afraid to stop staring at it because I need to appreciate it. What if we leave and I haven’t appreciated it enough, even though I don’t even know what that means?”

 

The moon is rising up behind the Acropolis. It’s close enough to full to be bright and beautiful, and they could take a million pictures of it and it’d never measure up. 

 

“We appreciate it by rememberin’ it,” Daryl says quietly, stroking her hair. “It’s all we can do.”

 

“Doesn’t that make you feel kind of sad?” asks Carol, burrowing in closer to him. Daryl thinks about it for a minute.

 

“Nah,” he decides. “‘Cause if we lived in one moment forever then we’d never get the ones that come later. There are times I wanted to freeze, like the first time I kissed you, or the moment I met our kids, or even sittin’ right here with you lookin’ at this crazy beautiful sight that we’re lucky enough to see, but I’m more curious to see what happens next than to stay here forever, you know? Does that make sense?”

 

“It makes sense,” Carol whispers. “I just get scared of losing the memories. Five years from now I may not remember what the Acropolis looks like with the moon behind it.”

 

“But you’ll remember it was important,” says Daryl. “And ain’t it the feelin’ what makes it worth rememberin’ in the first place?”

 

Daryl hears the smile in her voice when she says, “Always so wise.” She sits up then and sets her wine glass on the table. She takes his from his hand as well and sets it beside hers. Daryl raises an eyebrow as an unspoken question, and in response she straddles his lap and loops her arms around his neck.

 

“What are you doin’?” he asks her, resting his hands on her bare thighs. She shrugs.

 

“Making memories,” she says. She kisses him then, sweet as the honey served on the side at breakfast. She runs her tongue over his, and it’s strange that no matter how many times he’s kissed her, it always feels like a gift. He makes a small noise that she swallows as she moves her hips against him. Her hands reach down between them, deftly undoing the button and zipper on his jeans, pushing down his boxers and freeing him. Daryl runs his hands up to touch her and finds she’s not wearing any panties. His breath hitches in his throat when she pulls away just far enough to whisper, “Ever since I saw this patio I wanted to do this on it.” 

 

Her lips find his again, right as she pushes herself down onto him. She mewls when he finds her clit and rubs her while she rolls her hips in a steady rhythm. They keep their eyes shut, mouths less than an inch apart, breathing nearly silent moans only the other can hear, until they both find their releases, the Acropolis the backdrop of their love making, as they sear the feelings of this moment into a memory neither of them will ever forget.

 

—-

 

_ July 14th _

_ Friday _

 

Santorini is both exactly what Daryl expected, and not at all what he expected. 

 

They spent their first day in their obscenely over-the-top hotel that Carol’s aunt booked for them making use of the bed and room service. They had figured that if they were going to be vacationing like a resort couple, they might as well go big or go home.

 

By day two, however, they’ve resorted themselves to death, and had both agreed upon waking that if they spent another full day in that hotel room they were going to go bonkers. Being pampered and catered to in a hotel with a pool that seems redundant because there’s an entire ocean within view is how Daryl always envisioned islands, but when they set out late Friday morning, Daryl begins to appreciate for the first time just how much more there is to this island outside of their four star hotel.

 

The island is comprised of green, gorgeous hills, with all the buildings painted with white and blue, the volcanic origin of the landscape new and unfamiliar to Daryl. Everywhere they turn they can see out into the endless ocean. Sometimes, if they’re close enough, they can hear the waves lapping up against the rocks. It’s nothing like Virginia Beach. Like everything else in Greece, Daryl can feel history in the island’s bones.

 

They take their exploration slowly, the steep steps hard on Daryl’s shit leg. Carol doesn’t seem bothered. She uses the frequent rest time to check out the local shops. At one accessory store she has Daryl sit on a stool and has him rate different hats on her on a scale from one to ten, until she ends up rolling her eyes at him and saying, “You can’t say ten to all of them.”

 

“You’re a ten so if you’re wearin’ a hat the hat’s automatically a ten, too,” Daryl argues.

 

“Barf central, you’re such a sap,” Carol says, kissing him on the cheek and putting a wide-brimmed sun hat on his head.

 

For lunch they split yet another dish Daryl can’t pronounce that has eggplant and ground meat in it, and ruins him for American food forever. Even the salads here are worth eating, and usually he only eats vegetables to make Carol stop telling him he’s going to get scurvy. 

 

The wander with no destination in mind, taking twists and turns that feel right. People on the street try and peddle things to them, and occasionally Carol will stop and look at what they have for sale, but they rarely buy anything. The fun part is looking; they’ve got minimal use for  _ things _ .

 

“I wanna go in there,” Carol says some time later when they come to a nondescript shop down a cobbled street. The few other tourists who are out this way aren’t paying this shop any mind, and Daryl, always down for going places where people aren’t, agrees. He trails behind her as she goes in through the open door.

 

The shop itself doesn’t seem to have a theme besides...stuff. Old stuff. Ancient Greek stuff. The shelves are packed full, and if there’s an order to them it’s known only to those who work here. There’s so much gold and silver around it’s claustrophobic at the same time that it’s perplexing. Carol looks at him questioningly, and he shrugs.

 

“May I help you?” a woman says, appearing from nowhere, startling them both. She’s a heavyset Greek woman decked out in jewelry, and Daryl can’t tell if she’s going for a specific sort of ominous aesthetic, or if she’s a hoarder who happens to own a shop.

 

“We were just wondering what your shop was,” Carol says cheerfully, walking along the wall, inspecting the various items. “I’ll be honest, I’m in here and I’m still not sure.” 

 

“Collectibles I have gotten over the years. People, they come to me with their souvenirs and I give them money.”

 

Ah. So it’s a pawn shop—one that specializes in Ancient Greek junk.

 

Carol looks like she’s in heaven.

 

“Is any of it authentic?” she asks.

 

“Yes,” says the woman. She watches Carol come to a bin full of coins and says, “Those there. Those are authentic.”

 

“These are Ancient Greek coins?” 

 

“Yes. But you do not want those. Those ones cheap, common—I have better coins for sale.”

 

Carol smirks.

 

“How cheap are these?” she asks and the woman regards her up and down, like she’s trying to see if this is a person she can swindle or not. 

 

“Mm, you want cheap coins, you get cheap coins. Pick two and pay twenty euro.” 

 

“Ten euros,” Carol says. Daryl rolls his eyes fondly, pointedly staying out of their bartering.

 

“Eighteen euro.”

 

“Thirteen and I’ll give you a good rating on Yelp.” 

 

This catches the woman off guard and she laughs, and Carol gives Daryl the smug look of someone who knows they’ve won.

 

“Okay okay, pretty girl pays thirteen euro and tells her friends online about my shop, yes?” 

 

Carol beams.

 

“Deal.” She beckons Daryl over. “Help me pick,” she tells him. “I want them for Jesse and Josie.” 

 

“They are friends? Jesse and Josie?” the woman says, coming over to observe the two of them. 

 

“They’re our children,”  Carol explains, picking up a dented, faded coin and squinting at it, trying to make out the image. “They’re just babies, but they can have them when they’re older.”

 

“How old?”

 

“They’ll be one in September.”

 

“Twins?” 

 

“Yes.”

 

“Mm, okay. Tell me about them. Your Josie, she is your girl? What is she like?”

 

“Stubborn,” Carol and Daryl both say at the same time. They grin at one another. 

 

“Strong minded?”

 

“That’s just another word for stubborn,” says Carol. “But no, she is. Very independent, and logical. She’ll be one tough woman when she’s grown.” 

 

“Ah, then that is easy then,” says the woman, diving into the bin. She searches for just a moment before pulling out a coin and handing it over to Carol. Carol takes it and places it in her open palm for Daryl to see. The coin is a dirty silver, with a woman’s face in a war helmet on the front.

 

“Who’s this?” Carol asks.

 

“Athena,” Daryl answers before the woman gets a chance. At Carol’s surprised look he says, “I seen that picture a lot. When we went to the Temple of Athena there were pictures of her lookin’ like that.”

 

“Always so observant, my love,” Carol mutters, holding up the coin in the light to see it better. “Do you think Athena’s a good choice for Josie?”

 

“From what I know about her I’d say hell yeah,” Daryl says. 

 

“I am very good,” the woman assures them, tapping the side of her head with a finger. “Athena for your daughter. Tell me now about your son.” 

 

“Uh…” Carol says, looking to Daryl for help. “He’s trickier to describe in single words.”

 

“Weird,” Daryl says, laughing. “But in a real good way.”

 

“He’s an individual but in a different way than Josie is. Like, I think where Josie is very logical, Jesse is strategic in a way that only makes sense to him. But he’s smart.”

 

“Oh yeah, real smart,” Daryl agrees. “Just different.”

 

The woman hums, pensive. She holds up a finger for them to wait, and starts digging through the bin again, but with more care than before. She checks several different coins, before making an “aha!” noise, and snatching one up and giving it to Carol. She and Daryl examine this second coin. It has what looks like a maze on the back.

 

“It originates from Crete. It is the labyrinth. Your Jesse, he will use his special mind to find the way out of hard problems when other people get lost. Yes?”

 

“Yes,” Carol says softly, tracing her pinky along the thin lines of the labyrinth. She looks to Daryl for approval, and he nods.

 

“Yeah,” he says. 

 

Carol takes the coins to the checkout counter and starts digging through her bag for her wallet, the woman waiting behind the register. Daryl loiters by the door, when he notices a small pendant on the ground. He bends down to pick it up and tells the woman, “This was on the floor. Dunno where it goes.” 

 

“Let me see,” says the woman, holding out her hand. Daryl limps over to the counter and hands it to her. She furrows her brow as she inspects it, shaking her head in bemusement. 

 

“I do not remember having this,” she says. She twists her mouth, and with a shrug, hands the pendant back to Daryl. “It is yours.”

 

“What is it?” Daryl asks, taking the pendant back with a frown. It’s a face with a wide, clownish smile and beady eyes engraved into silver. The face has hair like snakes. It’s not a pleasant face at all.

 

“A Gorgon. You know Medusa, yes?”

 

“Uh, kinda,” Daryl mumbles. “Turns people into stone, that kind of thing right? This her?” 

 

“No, but she is one of the Gorgon. You keep that pendant, and the face of the Gorgon will ward away evil.”

 

“I don’t run into that much evil,” Daryl says, holding the pendant with uncertainty.

 

“Maybe you found the Gorgon because you will need it in the future.”

 

“Very ominous, thank you,” Carol says, handing over the thirteen euros and taking her coins. The woman shrugs. 

 

“You make the Yelp review?” 

 

“Yes ma’am,” Carol says with a salute. “Thanks.” 

 

She heads out the door. Daryl hesitates before stuffing the pendant into his pocket and following after her. Carol is already laughing before they’re even out of earshot of the place.

 

“What the fuck?” she says. Daryl shakes his head.

 

“Dunno. Think she just had too much fuckin’ stuff at home and had to find a way to get rid of it,” he says, and she snorts.

 

“C’mon, let’s go find somewhere to eat supper along the coastline. Apparently Santorini sunsets are supposed to be gorgeous, and I wanna be able to see it.”

 

Daryl wraps his arm around Carol’s shoulder and lets her lead the way, the Gorgon in his pocket already forgotten.

 

—-

 

_ July 15th _

_ Saturday _

 

Daryl peppers lazy kisses along the freckles of Carol’s bare back, his leg draped over hers, the covers drawn up to their chests, their bodies nude underneath. It’s after nightfall on their last day in Greece, and while it’s sad to see their vacation ending, they’re both ready to go home. 

 

“We get to see our babies tomorrow,” Carol says into the peacefulness of the room. 

 

“‘M excited,” Daryl says, pressing his forehead against her shoulder blade. 

 

“I’m excited, too. I miss them. And Henry. I even miss our shitty house.” She lets out a long exhale. “We have it pretty good, all things considered.”

 

“We do,” Daryl agrees. Neither of them says anything for a while, but Carol knows him well.

 

“You’re thinking about something,” she says. “Wanna share with the class?” 

 

“It’s nothin’ bad,” Daryl says. “I’m just thinking about what we got now, and like, what it might look like in the future.”

 

“How do you mean?” 

 

“Just like...you start school in the spring, so we got that to focus on, but after you graduate, do you wanna stay in town forever? Do you...wanna just have two kids forever?” He feels Carol tense under him, and he quickly adds, “It’s fine if you do, I ain’t complain’ either way, I’m just curious.”

 

“I think where we live will depend on jobs, and where our friends and family are, you know?” Carol says quietly. “It’d be kind of nice to own our own house someday. Really nice, actually.”

 

“We can make that happen,” Daryl says with confidence. Carol takes hold of his hand and kisses his knuckles.

 

“Do you want more kids?” she asks him then. Daryl chews on his lip and shrugs a shrug she can’t see. 

 

“I’m real, real happy with the ones I got, and if they’re the only ones I ever get I’ll still die happy...But I ain’t opposed to more. Kinda like the idea. Not any time soon, don’t misunderstand, we’re still playin’ catch up from the last two we made, but…” he trails off.

 

“I could see it,” Carol says after a beat.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah, maybe,” she says. “When the twins are a little older and we have a least some of our shit together. How many are we talking, though, ‘cause keep in mind I’m the incubator here.” 

 

Daryl laughs and says, “Darlin’, I’ll give you as many babies as you want, and if you end up just wantin’ two, then I mean it when I say I’m okay with it.”

 

“What if I want like, sixteen more kids?” 

 

“Mm, ‘kay, I’ll give you as many babies as you want, so long as it doesn’t land us a TLC show.” 

 

Carol giggles into the crook of Daryl’s arm for a second, before shuffling around in bed to face him. She hums when he reaches out and pushes her hair back behind her ear.

 

“I really was just curious,” Daryl says.

 

“I know.” 

 

“Life’ll happen the way it’ll happen. If we know nothin’ else by now we sure as hell know that.” 

 

“That we do,” Carol agrees. “Tell you what, though?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“I’m real damn glad you’re my husband.” 

 

Daryl grins, ducking his head.

 

“Yeah, well, I’m real damn glad you’re my wife.”

 

“Good,” Carol says, nodding soundly. “Now, c’mere, ‘cause we got a plane to catch in the morning and this is the last night we have with no babies interrupting us, and your wife wants to see how many orgasms we can fit in before we gotta leave.”

 

“Yes ma’am,” Daryl says, and he kisses the smirk right off her face.

 

—-

 

_ July 16th _

_ Sunday _

 

Every ache in his body from sitting in a plane for hours, every annoyance he has from dealing with TSA and Customs, every bit of exhaustion he feels from jet lag—all of it disappears the moment he and Carol exit out into the lobby of the Atlanta airport and see the best welcoming crew they could have.

 

Barb is beaming at them, and is already unstrapping the kids from the stroller as they head over. She sits Josie down first, who spots her mom and dad, and toddles over to them, just as expertly as when she began, walking right into Daryl’s arms. 

 

“Oh my God, I missed you,” Daryl says into Josie’s hair as he hugs her tight. He reluctantly hands her over to Carol, who smothers her daughter with kisses. Daryl’s heart nearly bursts at the sight of her face scrunch.

 

“Okay, do you want Auntie’s help walking over to see mommy and daddy?” Barb is saying to Jesse in her high pitched baby voice. Jesse looks like he’s about to explode with excitement at the sight of Carol and Daryl. Barb stands Jesse up on his legs and holds his hands lightly, ready to help him walk, but he takes a step all by himself. Barb makes a noise of surprise. 

 

“Dada dada mamama ba ba la ma ma da dada da mamalamamada,” Jesse says, taking more steps, speeding up as he starts to lose his balance. Daryl and Carol crouch down to his level and catch him before he face plants into the ground.

 

“Good job, little man,” Carol exclaims, holding Josie in one arm and pinching Jesse’s cheek in the other.

 

“That’s the best welcome home present you coulda got us, you know that?” Daryl asks, hoisting him up into his arms, so proud of his son that he could cry. 

 

“He was so happy to see you I guess a butt scoot just wouldn’t cut it,” Carol’s aunt says, coming over and hugging them both at once. “Tell you what,” she says as she pulls away. “I’d send you to Greece a million times over, but I won’t pretend that we didn’t all miss you very much. It’s good to have you home.”

 

Jesse is talking at Daryl through all of this, and Josie is playing with Carol’s earring. He could look at a billion moons rising behind a billion ancient ruins, and nothing would match the sight of his children. 

 

“Good to be home,” Daryl says. 

 

And it is. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :skull emoji::skull emoji::skull emoji::skull emoji::skull emoji:
> 
> so! fuck this chapter! 
> 
> i swear to god you guys, i've had a rough go of it with chapters before, but this one made me Big Mad. it just wouldn't end! this chapter is 14k words long! why is it that long?! i just wanted them to leave greece but they wouldn't leave greece. :((((
> 
> ok, bitching out of the way, here's the dealio: the original plan was two final chapters posted at the same time. since this piece of shit chapter decided to be a short novel in and of itself, i had to break it into two. so what you're getting is this chapter tonight so i don't have to look at it anymore, and then the last two chapters tomorrow. and like, with the understanding that this could jinx myself real bad, i really don't foresee that being difficult to do. the last two chapters are substantially shorter, and are also full of things i've been wanting to write for literal months (i am so hype!!!!!!)
> 
> so check engine light ends tomorrow, barring any horrible catastrophes. she's almost out of my life forever, thank christ.
> 
> if you read this chapter you are legally obligated to validate me and/or send me $34 because of how much i suffered. thnx in advance.
> 
> btw city circus is a real place, and yes i've been there, and yes there's a frozen yogurt place nearby that's like, fucking bomb. i've also been to santorini, but i traveled there like a broke person and hosteled it up there, too, so i made up the hotel they stayed in there. 
> 
> ok bye, c u tomorrow,  
> -diz


	32. Take It to the Shop

_ August 26th _

_ Saturday _

 

“No.”

 

Daryl holds a spoon of yogurt out to Josie, who shoves it away with a shake of her head. Merle, standing with his arms crossed beside the kitchen counter, snorts.

 

“Little lady here seems to have a new favorite word,” Merle says, as Daryl tries the yogurt again, only to get it on Josie’s cheek when she turns her head away. Daryl huffs a sigh, straightening up and sticking the spoon back into the yogurt container, defeated.

 

“Tell me about it,” he says. He glances over at Jesse, who’s got bits of scrambled egg stuck to his face. Jesse looks at his dad and smiles, his mouth full and chewing. Daryl ruffles his hair, saying, “At least I got one who ain’t a picky eater.” 

 

“Glass half-full kind’a guy, I appreciate that,” Merle says, pushing himself away from the counter and picking up the disregarded yogurt container. He takes a spoonful and holds it out to Josie. “Will you eat some for your Uncle Merle?” he asks the baby. Josie contemplates the offer.

 

“No,” she says, opening her mouth and letting Merle spoon feed her yogurt. She swallows and opens her mouth again, taking another bite when Merle gives it to her.

 

“Oh you little butthole,” Daryl says to Josie, flicking her lightly on her chubby arm. Josie is unremorseful, eating more yogurt while staring Daryl straight in the eye. “That how it is, huh?” Daryl asks, reaching over and tickling Josie’s neck. She scrunches her face and giggles.

 

“No,” she says, batting at him with her tiny hands.

 

“Dada!” Jesse says, banging on his highchair tray to get Daryl’s attention.

 

“Yes, sir?” Daryl says, leaving Merle to deal with his traitorous daughter. Jesse holds out a handful of scrambled egg. “For me?”

 

“Baba la la ba,” Jesse affirms.

 

Daryl bends down and lets Jesse feed him egg covered in applesauce. 

 

“Mm, gross, thank you,” Daryl says, kissing Jesse on his sticky cheek. “So,” Daryl says then, addressing Merle while he adjusts Jesse’s bib. “You still ain’t said why I owe the pleasure of your company this mornin’.” 

 

“Can’t I just come by to see my rugrats?” Merle asks, scraping the sides of the yogurt container with the edge of the spoon and not looking at Daryl.

 

“‘Course you can,” Daryl says, standing upright and stuffing his hands in his pockets. “That why you’re here, though?” 

 

Merle twists his mouth, silent for a moment, before giving a one-armed shrug and finally facing his brother. 

 

“Aight, so I gotta tell you somethin’,” he says. Daryl’s stomach drops to his ass.

 

“What’d you do?” he asks, already running through every worse case scenario, most of them involving relapse, but Merle holds up a hand.

 

“Chill, man, I’m still on the wagon, it ain’t nothin’ like that,” he assures him. Daryl’s heart slows down slightly, but he keeps his hackles raised.

 

“What then?” he asks. 

 

“It’s about dad,” Merle says, throwing Daryl for a loop. He knits his brows together.

 

“Dad? What about him?” 

 

Merle blows out a breath before saying, “I ran into an old acquaintance the other day at the hardware store. Real prick, didn’t really wanna stand around and make small talk with ‘im, but he came over and first thing outta his mouth was that he was sorry to hear about my daddy.”

 

Daryl blinks.

 

“Is he dead?” he asks flatly.

 

“Nah, but I guess he’s gonna be,” Merle continues. “Told this dude I ain’t talked to my daddy in years, and he said that he’d heard through the grapevine that he’s up at the hospital with late stage liver cancer. Says it’s spread all over. Says he ain’t gonna be leavin’ the place in anything but a box.” 

 

Daryl wets his bottom lip, trying to figure out how he feels about the news, but comes up empty.

 

“How long’s he got?” he asks.

 

“Couple o’ weeks, maybe? I mean, this was all secondhand information, so who knows, you know? I debated on if I even wanted to tell you.”

 

“Why?”

 

“‘Cause, you got other shit to fill your time with,” Merle says, gesturing at the twins. “You don’t need that asshole on your mind. Obviously I ain’t losin’ any sleep over him rottin’ away in the hospital. If he dies he dies, don’t matter one way or another to me. World’s better off without ‘im in it. But you, baby brother, you always been a softie, and I dunno, I just worried you’d sit around worryin’ about closure, whatever the fuck that means. But then I figured it ain’t my place to decide that for you. So here you go. I’m tellin’ you.” 

 

Daryl stares at a spot on the floor, brain blank. Jesse reaches out and touches his wrist. Daryl gives his son a small smile and strokes his cheek distractedly. 

 

“For what it’s worth,” Merle says. “He might be our father, but he ain’t no daddy. You? You’re what a daddy’s supposed to be. Look at these kids. You’re a goddamn hero to them. That asshole, he couldn’t even pretend to be a good parent, even if someone had him at gunpoint.. He shot a load into our momma and that’s the last time he did a damn thing for you. You don’t owe him a thing.”

 

“No,” says Josie. 

 

“See? She gets it,” Merle says, nodding at Josie. Daryl huffs a breath through his nose.

 

“Yeah,” he says, letting Jesse play with his hand. “I know I don’t.” 

 

“I won’t tell you how to deal with it,” Merle says. “Just don’t make me go anywhere near the bastard, that’s all I ask.”

 

“I wouldn’t,” Daryl promises. He gets a washcloth to clean up the twins. Merle doesn’t say another word on the topic. The information hangs heavy like a weight in the air between them, and they dance around it for the rest of the morning, but they don’t acknowledge it. It’s like what the doctor said about his leg during a check up: 

 

You’ll get back to your normal, but every now and then the pain might flair up again. There are just some injuries that insist on only healing up to 99%, no matter how long it’s been.

 

—-

 

Daryl dreams of his dad for the first time in ages. 

 

His dreams about his dad are more like memories.

 

Tonight, he’s no older than nine, cowering shirtless in the corner of the house that smells of stale cigarettes and moth balls. His daddy grabs him by the throat, making him gag. Daryl gets thrown to the ground like a rag doll. He lays on his belly while his daddy wails on his back, the air whistling as the belt snaps through it before hitting tender flesh. Daryl whimpers but doesn’t cry, trying to think about the forest. He tries to think of trees, and grass, and ponds, and  _ freedom _ as he takes every lash.

 

“You’re so worthless,” his daddy tells him through the whipping. “Ain’t never gonna be shit, and nobody’s gonna be fool enough to love you.”

 

Daryl doesn’t even know what he’s done wrong today, but if his daddy says he deserves it, then he must deserve it.

 

“Say it,” his daddy demands. “Say, ‘nobody’s ever gonna love me.’”

 

“Nobody’s ever gonna love me,” Daryl mumbles into the carpet.

 

“Say it again.”

 

“Nobody’s ever gonna love me.”

 

“Again.”

 

“Nobody’s ever gonna love me.”

 

His daddy makes him say it again and again during the beating, until Daryl’s bleeding both inside and out. 

 

He burrows his head into the floor, skin burning, and jumps like a scared cat when a pair of hands come to rest on his shoulders. He swats them away, rolling away, until suddenly he’s about to fall off the edge of something, and he realizes with a jolt that he’s not on the floor of his daddy’s house, but instead is in his own bed, hanging on the side of the mattress. Beside him is Carol, her eyes wide and her hands up, palms out, keeping her distance from him. 

 

“It’s just me, baby,” she says carefully. “You’re safe, you’re here with me.” 

 

Daryl swallows hard, nodding, but he doesn’t come any closer. For once he needs the distance from her, just for a few minutes. Carol’s witnessed a few of these nightmares before and knows better than to try and force touch on him. Instead, she simply says, “I love you.”

 

Daryl shuts his eyes tight.

 

“Can you say it again, please?” he asks in an impossibly small voice. 

 

“I love you,” she says without hesitation. 

 

“Again?”

 

“I love you.”

 

She says it over and over, until he creeps back to her and lets her wrap her arms around him, hands pressed against the scars on his back, and that’s how he falls back to sleep—to the sound of Carol proving his father wrong. 

 

—-

 

_ August 29th _

_ Tuesday _

 

He doesn’t even get given the paperwork anymore. Jamie the receptionist has long since given up on him, and he’d feel guilty about it except...well, except he just doesn’t. Life’s too short to care about every little thing, after all.

 

Ryan is unrecognizable from the toddler with the red crayon he met over a year and a half ago. When Daryl arrives in the waiting room Ryan is ready for him. The kid rushes over to him and hugs his leg. Daryl grins and pats Ryan on the back.

 

“How’s my lil’ dude doin’ today?” he asks.

 

“Good,” Ryan says. He takes Daryl by the hand and leads him to his usual seat in the corner. Rachel sits across from him and waves. 

 

“Hey,” Daryl says.

 

“Hey yourself,” Rachel says. She’s almost as unrecognizable as her son in terms of the timid, overwhelmed woman he met that first day. Rachel is more poised and sure of herself, and while Daryl knows that she, like himself, and like his wife, is a work in progress, the difference is still striking. He finds that he’s proud of her. He finds that he’s grateful for her.

 

Connections with other people sometimes come from the strangest places.

 

“Y’all still comin’ to the twins’ party next Thursday?” Daryl asks.

 

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Rachel says. “Hard to believe they’re almost a year old.”

 

“Pfft, you’re tellin’ me,” Daryl says. Truth be told, he’s been trying not to think too hard about that.

 

“It feels like it was just yesterday you were showing me that ultrasound on your phone.”

 

Daryl kept that picture as the background on his phone for months. Today, his background is a picture of Carol and the twins playing an intense game of peek-a-boo. He meant what he told Carol, about life needing to move forward to be able to experience it all, but sometimes it moves faster than he expects it to.

 

“How many days ‘til the party?” Ryan asks Daryl.

 

“Nine,” Daryl says.

 

“Is that a lot?” 

 

“Mm, not really.”

 

“Can I eat cake at the party?” 

 

“Yeah. Carol’s making cupcakes. What kind of cupcakes do you like.”

 

“Hmm, I think chocolate.”

 

“Well lucky you, chocolate is Jojo’s favorite so we’ll definitely have that.” 

 

Ryan beams at Daryl right as Dr. Peterson peeks her head around the corner.

 

“Daryl?” she says. Daryl holds out a fist to Ryan, who bumps his own against it. He says goodbye to him and Rachel and follows Dr. Peterson down the hall.

 

Daryl takes his seat. Without a second thought, he sits all the way back, hands resting on the arms of the chair, and watches Dr. Peterson mildly as she sits across from him. 

 

“What’s new?” she asks him with a smile. She doesn’t have to coax it out of him through tricks anymore. He shakes his head and scoffs.

 

“Get this,” he says. “Merle came over Saturday mornin’, right, and outta nowhere he tells me that our old man’s got late stage liver cancer and is gonna kick the bucket.”

 

“Oh shit,” Dr. Peterson says, raising her eyebrows. “How does that make you—what have your thoughts been about that? We haven’t talked about your dad for a while.”

 

“That’s ‘cause he ain’t come up in forever. I ain’t had no reason to think about the piece of shit, you know? But now the nightmares are comin’ back, which just...fuck that.”  

 

“The nightmares? Not the ones you used to have about your mom, right?”

 

“Nah, the ones I used to get all the time ‘bout my daddy beatin’ on me. It’s the same shit every time. I always wake up scared out of my mind, and poor Carol. I can’t let her touch me right after I have one, and I’m scared it makes her feel like I don’t trust her or somethin’.”

 

“From what I know about Carol—and I know a  _ lot  _ about Carol—I highly doubt she would ever take something like that personally.”

 

“Mm, yeah, I guess. I hate that so much, though, bein’ afraid of my own wife. Even if it’s not actually her I’m afraid of. I just want that asshole outta my head. Merle said he almost didn’t tell me about dad ‘cause he was worried I’d get all obsessive like this, and I guess he was right.”

 

“What was his reason for deciding to tell you?”

 

“He said that it was my decision on whether or not I wanna get closure on the whole dumbass thing. But like...What even is closure, doc? I really don’t know.”

 

“I don’t think I can define it for you. I think it’s different for everyone.” 

 

“Yeah,” Daryl mumbles. He furrows his brow, picking at mud on his jeans. 

 

“What are you thinking?” Dr. Peterson asks after the silence drags on for a minute or so.

 

Daryl scratches his cheek and shrugs. 

 

“I ain’t ever gonna be rid of him, am I?” he asks. 

 

Dr. Peterson looks pensive. 

 

“No,” she says finally. “But that’s because he’s part of your story, and we don’t get to erase parts of our stories that have already happened. But that doesn’t mean he has to control you; it doesn’t mean you have to live in the trauma forever.”

 

“No?” Daryl asks. Dr. Peterson shakes her head.

 

“No. You want me to define closure? I think that’s what closure is. It’s not about closing the book and never opening it again—it’s being able to open the book without getting sucked back inside it, because it doesn’t have that hold over you anymore.”

 

“Do you think that’s somethin’ I can do?”

 

“Daryl,” Dr. Peterson says with a kind smile. “How can you be as observant as you are and not realize that there are very few things I think you can’t do?” 

 

“Oh,” Daryl murmurs. “Well...thanks. You’ve helped a lot, you know? With lots of things.” 

 

“I’m just a soundboard, Daryl. At the end of the day, it’s you who does all the work.”

 

“Then why the hell do I pay you?” Daryl deadpans. Dr. Peterson grants him a laugh.

 

“Good point,” she says. “Let’s keep that little fact between us. Girl’s gotta make a paycheck.”

 

Daryl smirks.

 

“Secret’s safe with me.”

 

—-

 

_ September 1st _

_ Friday _

 

Daryl leaves work early Friday afternoon. He could have waited until tonight when Carol gets home, but he’d rather not have the time to overthink this. He gets on the bike and drives. He takes the long way, making a few purposeful wrong turns to make it even longer, before pulling up to the hospital. He parks and sits there, the sun in his eyes, for several minutes. There’s still time, he thinks, still time to turn around.

 

He takes off his helmet and swings his leg off the bike. He rubs his eyes and blows out a breath, before making his way to the entrance. 

 

He’s been with Carol in this hospital a lot in the past few years—the ER, pre-op, post-op, labor and delivery, and even the psych ward—and even though he knows she still isn’t the biggest fan of them, part of him wishes she were here with him. But this is something she can’t be a part of; something he’d never allow her to be a part of. This is the one thing he has to do alone.

 

Instead of asking for directions from the man at the information desk right there in front of him, Daryl reads the signs on the walls until he figures out which way it is to the hopeless cases. He gets in the elevator, wide enough to carry a gurney, which always makes him feel small, and goes to the third floor.

 

He wanders down a few halls until he reaches another desk. He approaches the nurse sat behind it and mutters, “You got someone here with the last name of Dixon?” 

 

“Let me check,” says the nurse, flipping through the chart. She scans the page and places her finger on a name. “Mhm, yup we do. Room 385. Through those doors and around the corner.” 

 

“Thanks,” Daryl mutters. He follows the map she laid out for him, and when he turns the corner he searches out the right number. It only takes him a minute to find it. He doesn’t move towards it right away. There’s a curtain drawn in front of the entrance in lieu of a door.

 

_ There’s still time to turn back. _

 

He doesn’t turn back. Instead, he walks forward and opens the curtain in one swift movement, like ripping off a bandaid. 

 

The room is dimly lit and quiet, except for the sound of the monitors making steady, rhythmic beeps. He’s been in a lot of hospital rooms, but somehow the air in this one feels denser, more antiseptic, like they’ve been using cleaning supplies as charms to ward off death. 

 

His father is in the bed. There’s no meat left on him, his sternum visible through his skin where his hospital gown is pushed down and heart monitors are strapped to his chest. His skin is a mustard yellow. There are IVs and tubes sticking out every which way, and there’s a respirator covering his mouth. But he’s not unconscious, and at the sound of the curtain opening his eyes fall on Daryl, and in an instant his face is full of pure hatred. 

 

For a fleeting moment the look triggers Daryl’s fight or flight instinct, as that look has only ever meant violence to come, but before he fights or flees his rational side takes over and reminds him that his father can’t touch him. Not today. Not ever again. 

 

He takes several long strides to the side of his daddy’s bed and stares down at him. For a moment he says nothing, and the two of them make eye contact, emitting as much loathing to the other as possible. Finally, Daryl shakes his head.

 

“How can you do that?” he asks then. “How can you see your son for the first time in years and look at him like that?” 

 

Daryl’s father continues to stare, unable to speak. His hand reaches for the nurse call button, but Daryl snatches it away before he can, pushing it out of reach. 

 

“No,” Daryl tells him. “I got shit to say and you’re gonna listen.” 

 

He takes a deep breath—lets it out through a thin part in his lips—and says his piece.

 

“I almost didn’t come here. I imagine you’d of preferred that way, but I’m here now. I needed to see you; see this. Not so strong no more, huh? Not so tough when you can’t wield a belt. ‘Course you weren’t never that strong, were you? It don’t count as strong if your target ain’t even ten years old. 

 

“But whatever. That ain’t why I came here. I don’t give a shit about none of that. You know what you did, I know what you did, so why stand around and tell stories we both already heard. Nah, I wanna tell you about right now. I wanna tell you about me.

 

“I got a wife. She’s amazing. Beautiful, smart, hilarious, and just perfect. And she loves me. She loves me like hell, daddy, and I love her, and you know what else? We got kids. Two of ‘em, and they are my absolute  _ everything _ . And you know, I used to think that you must have hated me ‘cause you just didn’t see anything worth carin’ about in me, but now I know that ain’t true, ‘cause the second—I mean that  _ very first second _ —I laid eyes on my children they became the most important things in my life. I love them through everything they do. Every hilarious thing, amazing thing, stupid thing,  _ irritaing  _ thing—nothin’ could ever make me look at them the way you look at me, let alone lay a hand on them. The thought alone makes me sick.

 

“And daddy, you will never, ever know them. You will never touch them. You will never see their faces. You don’t get to even know their names. And I know you think that’s no big deal, why would you want to, right? And that’s fine, you can think that, ‘cause I know the truth, and that truth is that you are missin’ out on the best thing you could have ever had. I know how empty your life is without them, even if you don’t. You are nothin’ but part of their bloodline, nothin’ more. 

 

“I’m so happy, daddy, so fuckin’ blessed. I got my girl, and my kids, and my friends. Would you believe I even got  _ Merle _ . I been to Greece. I flew over the ocean. I saw history like them rich people do. And even if I never did that, I still would be lucky as shit, ‘cause as soon as I leave here I get to go pick up my babies, and I get to go to my home, and sit in front of the TV and eat dinner with my family.

 

“And you? You’re gonna lay in this room for another week, maybe two, and then you’re gonna die, and that’s it. There won’t be nobody around to mourn you. When they call me up and ask what to do with your body I’ll tell them I don’t give a shit. This is the life you made for yourself. You have nothin’ and nobody, and you are gonna die alone.

 

“You pro’ly thought I came here to pull some ‘I won’t forget, but I forgive’ shit, but I don’t forgive you for any of it, daddy, not a single second of it. And it ain’t even ‘cause I’m still angry about it. It’s ‘cause you ain’t worth the time it takes to forgive.

 

“My whole life you tried your damndest to break me into nothin’. That was your life’s work. Well guess what?” 

 

Daryl shakes his head, a slow smile spreading across his face. He leans in closer and whispers two final words:

 

“ _ You failed _ .”

 

He takes the call button and tosses it back at his father. He turns on his heel and offers no goodbye as he steps out of the door.

 

He doesn’t look back.

 

—-

 

_ Birthday twins, _

 

_ It’s 12:04am on September 7th. You’re both officially one year old. Can you believe that? I sure as hell can’t. _

 

_ You know lil ones, from the moment I knew you existed to right now writing this letter my life has been one crazy rollercoaster. I tell you in every letter that I love you more than anything, but I don’t think there’s any way to write it in a way to really make you understand. The feeling aint something I can describe. Yall are gonna hafta take my word for it ok? _

 

_ I feel like I should tell you something important or teach you something new since you’re both older now, so here’s your lesson: _

 

_ There are going to be things that hurt you that you’re gonna wanna forget about. There are gonna be times when you’d rather not think about something than deal with it. It happens to everyone and it will happen to both of you. But here’s what I’ve learned that I hope you’ll learn way sooner than I did, and that’s that dealing with it is always the better idea in the long run. _

 

_ At work the people who bring me cars with small problems always have less big problems down the road than the ones who wait until everything is going wrong all at once. I always tell customers to take their cars to the shop early even if it feels better to ignore it cuz it’ll feel a helluva lot worse when it takes a lot more to fix it. _

 

_ So whenever you have a problem, kiddos, take it to the shop. Don’t wait. Since you were in your momma’s belly to today you have had so many people who love you so you will never be without someone there to help you through whatever the problem is.  _

 

_ I love you so goddamn much. You are turning into incredible people, and as hard as it is to watch you grow I also can’t wait to see who you turn out to be. _

 

_ Happy technically late birthday Jojo, but only by a few minutes, and happy birthday JJ. You are everything to me and always will be. _

 

_ Love, _

_ Dad _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoo boy, i can't believe this fic is done. chapter after this one is the epilogue (of sorts). this is by far the longest thing i have ever written in my life, and i am so incredibly attached to it. it was never supposed to be anything and now it's consumed me tbh. but in a good way. i joke a lot about being validated, but in all seriousness, the fact that anyone reads my words and feels any type of way about them is incredibly humbling, and i deeply appreciate every single one of you with all my heart and soul. thank you for going with me on this journey, and just a heads up that while there's a lack of team groupchat in these last two chapters, maybe keep an eye out in the future. 
> 
> anyway, buckle your seat belts y'all, cuz we're going on a.......


	33. An Epilogue of Sorts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .....time jump! bear with me now

_ Five years later… _

 

Daryl pulls up to the curb. He parks, gets out, and leans against the car, waiting. There’s the usual daily chaos. Up ahead there’s a line of kids filing into a school bus. The street is traffic jammed with cars trying to get in and out of the cramped area, all while going at a snail’s pace in the school zone. Daryl avoids eye contact with all of them, choosing instead to pick dirt out of his nails, until he hears a familiar voice yelling,

 

“Daddy, daddy, daddy!” 

 

He looks up, already smiling, and sees Jesse running towards him, his backpack the size of his entire torso and bouncing up and down as he runs. Josie is behind him, and she smiles at Daryl and waves.

 

“Hey, baby,” Daryl says, hugging Jesse when he body slams himself into Daryl’s side. He nods at Josie and says, “Hey, other baby.” 

 

“Joey doesn’t like being called baby, ‘member?” Jesse says, stepping back and looking up at Daryl. He’s got shaggy hair like his dad, and it’s light brown in color. He’s still got Carol’s face, different enough to make it his own, and he’s bright-eyed and excitable.

 

“‘Cause we’re not babies,” Josie says. “But it’s okay if daddy wants to call me it.”

 

“Oh it is, huh?” Daryl says.

 

“Yeah, ‘cause you like to.”

 

“I do like to,” Daryl agrees. He pulls Josie in for a hug and kisses her cheek. She scrunches her nose in response. Her hair is darker than Jesse’s and she has flyaways coming out of her braid. She’s still got Daryl’s face, different enough to make it her own, and she’s got Carol’s freckles and a missing front tooth.

 

Daryl helps load them into the car, making sure they’re secured tight in their boosters.

 

“How was school today?” Daryl asks, getting settled in the front seat and peeling away from the curb.

 

“Fine,” says Josie.

 

“They singed happy birthday to me like they did for Joey yesterday, at recess Tony telled me that twins cannot have different birthdays, I telled him that Joey and I do have different birthdays and he said no we didn’t, I said yes we did and I telled the teacher and the teacher telled him that Joey and I  _ do  _ have different birthdays like I said.” Jesse seems to say all of this in a single breath.

 

“Oh yeah? What’d Tony say to that?”   
  


“He said okay.” 

 

Daryl snorts.

 

“I see. So JJ, did you pay attention in class today?” 

 

“Daddy, do you wanna see the picture I drawed?” Jessie asks.

 

“It’s not drawed it’s drewed,” Josie corrects him. 

 

“It’s drew, actually,” Daryl says. In the rearview mirror he sees Josie shake her head.

 

“No it’s drewed. Gracie told me that it’s drewed.”

 

“You think Gracie knows more than me?” Daryl asks in mock offense.

 

“Mrs. Meyer told me that ain’t is not a word and you say ain’t a lot so maybe you don’t know words all the time,” Josie says pragmatically. Daryl twists his mouth.

 

“Anyway,” he says flatly. “JJ, did you pay attention in class today?”

 

“I’ll show you what I drewed, it’s real cool. I wanna show Auntie Michonne, she says I am a good artist.” 

 

“You are a good artist,” Daryl agrees. “Did you pay attention in class today?” 

 

“It is of a dragon. Do you like dragons, daddy?”

 

“Jesse,” Daryl says. “ _ Did you pay attention in class today? _ ”

 

“He got sent to the quiet corner again,” Josie says. Jesse smacks her arm.

 

“Tattletale,” he says.

 

“You took too long and it’s dumb to lie,” Josie says with a shrug.

 

“I didn’t lie,” Jesse protests.

 

“Okay, chill you two. JJ, why’d you get sent to the quiet corner.”

 

“‘Cause Mrs. Meyer said I couldn’t draw dragons when she’s talking, and I said that I was listening, but she said no I wasn’t, and so I stopped drawing, and then got bored and talked to Lilian when I was supposed to listen.”

 

“You know you’re not supposed to talk during class.”

 

“I didn’t talk when I drewed dragons!”

 

“I get that, but the teachers don’t want you drawing in class either.” 

 

“But I like to draw.”

 

“I know, kid, but school’s been back for two weeks and your momma and I already got two calls from the principal. That ain’t s’posed to happen ‘til you’re at  _ least  _ in middle school. Try and behave, alright?”

 

“Do I still get to eat birthday cake with Joey and Uncle Glenn tonight?”

 

“Of course, but you need to try and not get in trouble in class so much.”

 

“Joey got in trouble in class today, too.”

 

“No I didn’t,” Josie says defensively. 

 

“It’s dumb to tell lies,” Jesse says. 

 

“Jojo? Did you get in trouble, too?” 

 

Josie huffs and crosses her arms.

 

“Only a little,” she says.

 

“What happened?”

 

“We was s’posed to count to fifty using gummy bears but I can count to fifty  _ without  _ gummy bears. Mrs. Meyer told me to use them and I said I didn’t  _ want  _ to use them, but she said that is how I will learn. I told her no it isn’t ‘cause I already know how to count to fifty. I said I can count all the way to a hundred with my brain, and then I asked her if she wanted me to teach her how to count with  _ her  _ brain and she got mad, but daddy, she’s the teacher, shouldn’t she already know how to count with her brain?” 

 

Daryl, using the essential parenting trick of making sure his kids don’t see him laugh when he’s supposed to be serious, says, “Yes, baby, but she can already count with her brain. But some of your friends can’t count in their heads yet like you, so that’s why she wants you to use gummy bears. That way you’re all learning the same way.”

 

“That’s bullshit,” Josie says.

 

“Yo,” Daryl says sharply. “What’d I say about usin’ that word?”

 

“To only use it when you or Uncle Merle is around?” Josie says. Realization seems to dawn on her. “Oh. Am I not allowed to say it around Jesse?”  

 

“Wait, Joey gets to say bullshit? How come I don’t get to say bullshit?” 

 

“Okay, how about  _ nobody  _ says bullshit?” 

 

“But you said I could say bullshit,” Josie protests.

 

“Yeah, but that’s just because...no, what am I doing, I’m the dad. No one says bullshit.” 

 

There’s a moment of quiet resignation.

 

“It’s okay, daddy,” Jesse says, breaking the silence. “Mommy said the word asswipe and told me not to tell you.” 

 

“That is good information to have, buddy,” Daryl says, smirking to himself. “Thank you very much.”

 

“You’re welcome,” Jesse says politely. “Did you know that the dragons I drewed have three heads?” 

 

“No kidding? What else do they have?”

 

They spend the rest of the drive with Jesse explaining to the two of them the details of fine art dragon drawing.

 

—-

 

“Alright, I think it’s present time, don’t you?” Glenn asks Jesse and Josie once everyone has had cake. They both nod vigorously. 

 

The living room in Daryl and Carol’s small rental house on the outskirts of Atlanta is crowded, with Maggie, Michonne, and Carol sitting on the couch, Rick in the armchair, and Glenn and Daryl on the floor with the twins and Henry. The cake that Carol made special at her bakery has been largely devoured. On the coffee table there are three piles of presents—one for Josie, one for Jessie, and one for Glenn.

 

“Who goes first?” Josie asks.

 

“Hmm, I think you go first Joey, ‘cause your birthday was yesterday.”

 

“Okay,” Josie says agreeably. 

 

“I got a present for you, that will be your first one,” Jesse says. Instead of standing up, he scoots himself over to the table and snatches the present that is a crumpled envelope with “JOEE” written on it with backwards E’s. Josie opens it and pulls out a piece of paper. She unfolds it to reveal a picture made entirely in crayon.

 

“Did you draw that for her, sweet potato?” Carol asks, beaming at Jesse.

 

“Yeah. Look, that’s you and that’s Henry,” Jesse says, leaning over to point out the features on the picture. “And I made it nighttime ‘cause you like the stars. See, I drew lots of stars.”

 

The picture is definitely a child’s drawing, but Jesse’s pictures always impress Daryl. He’s asked Michonne if Jesse draws at a normal level, and she assured him that the kid has some actual talent, which he must have gotten from Carol, because Daryl draws about as well as Josie, who can’t do art for shit. 

 

“Thank you,” Josie says, sitting the picture to the side and giving Jesse a hug. 

 

“You’re welcome. What’d you get me?” Jesse asks. The adults all snort, but Josie picks up a small box Carol helped her wrap and hands it to him. Jesse tears it open and shakes the contents out into his hands. “Oh  _ cool _ !” he says, eyes lighting up. 

 

“What is it?” Maggie asks.

 

“Some neat rocks she found the other day,” Carol explains, grinning. 

 

“Guess what I’m getting you for your next birthday,” Michonne says to Rick.

 

“You like rocks, too, Uncle Rick?” Jesse asks earnestly.

 

“Love ‘em, kid,” Rick says. Jesse nods sagely. 

 

“Thank you, Joey,” Jesse says, giving Josie a side hug. 

 

“Uncle Glenn, it’s your turn. Here.” Josie gives him a present with a card attached to it. “Jesse drewed the card, and then daddy said that you would like to have that as a present.”

 

Glenn unwraps it and narrows his eyes. He looks at Daryl, who’s snickering. 

 

“A spelling book,” Glenn says pointedly. “Thank you so much.” 

 

“You’re welcome,” the kids say in unison.

 

They continue in this fashion, taking turns. When they get Glenn’s present for Jesse, both Carol and Daryl sigh heavily. He’d asked them for permission, and they had agreed, but reluctantly.

 

“A  _ salamander _ ?” Jesse asks, mouth hanging open. “And I get to keep him?” 

 

“Yup, Josie hogs Henry so I thought you might like a pet of your own,” Glenn explains. Jesse is holding up the small carrying cage that the salamander is inside of. “But you got to take real good care of it. You gotta keep it warm and feed it.” 

 

“I will,” Jesse promises passionately. 

 

“What are you gonna name it?” Carol asks mildly, shaking her head at Daryl with a resigned smile.

 

“ _ Oh man _ ,” Jesse says, overwhelmed. He chews on his lower lip, thinking hard. “Stew,” he says confidently after a minute.

 

“Stu?” Daryl says.

 

“When did you hear the name Stu?” Carol asks. 

 

“Like we had for dinner yesterday,” Jesse explains.

 

“Oh, so you mean like...beef stew?” Daryl asks. Jesse nods.

 

“Yeah, that’ll be his whole name. Beef Stew.” He looks up at Glenn excitedly and says, “Can he sit on my shoulder like a parrot when we play pirate? Then I don’t have to use Josie’s pretend owl.” 

 

“Heck yeah, man,” Glenn says. “Firstmate Beef Stew. Love it.”

 

“Mm, no, I think he’s a captain,” Jesse says. “Like me.”

 

“Wait, so your ship has  _ two  _ captains? Isn’t that cheating?” Glenn asks. 

 

“No, I promise only I will make the orders, but he’ll just be a captain, too.”

 

“Oh, in that case,” Glenn says. He puts a hand on the carrying cage and says, “I dub thee, Captain Beef Stew.”

 

“My boyfriend is weird,” Maggie says forlornly.

 

“Yeah, well so is our son,” Carol says. 

 

They get through all the presents until there’s nothing left. That’s when Carol says to the twins,

 

“Okay, so you each get a present that isn’t wrapped. Jesse, you first, come over here.”

 

Jesse and Josie exchange a glance before getting up to follow Daryl and Carol as they lead them to the spare room down the hall. The rest of the party trails behind. 

 

“This one’s for you, little artist,” Carol says, opening the door and revealing an easel, sitting on a tarp, with an array of different paints, brushes, and canvasses. Jesse looks like his eyes might pop right out of his head.

 

“This is like Auntie Michonne’s studio,” he says, glancing over his shoulder at Michonne, who nods.

 

“Sure is, kid,” Michonne says. “You’re a professional now.” 

 

“Thank you thank you thank you,” Jesse says, hugging Carol first and then Daryl. “Can I paint pictures now?”

 

“Well we gotta show Jojo her present first,” Daryl reminds him. Jesse takes a steadying breath, nodding.

 

“Right, that’s right. Where’s her present?” 

 

In response, Daryl beckons everybody to follow them out to the back patio. They step outside where night has already fallen, and sitting beside the grass is a tiny kids’ telescope. Josie, who does not emote with frequency, lets her jaw fall and her eyebrows fly up to her hairline.

 

“Is that for me?” she asks, looking from Carol to Daryl like she’s trying to figure out the catch.

 

“Yep,” Carol says. 

 

“Is that so you can look at stars?” Jesse asks her. 

 

“Yeah,” she says. “And the moon. Daddy, ‘member how I said that there was people who walked on the moon?”

 

“Sure do.”

 

“Mrs. Meyer told me that they was all boys and no girls ever walked on the moon. Do you think I could do it?” 

 

“Heck yeah, baby girl,” Daryl says. “I’d miss you a whole lot, though.”

 

“I’ll come back,” Josie says, waving her hand dismissively. “Thank you, momma, thank you, daddy.”

 

“You’re welcome, sugar,” Carol says.

 

“We do good this year?” Daryl asks. 

 

Josie and Jesse look at each other and nod.

 

“Real good,” Josie says. 

 

“Real real good,” Jesse says. 

 

Daryl grins, wrapping an arm around Carol.

 

“Happy birthday, you guys,” he says. “Love you like hell.”

 

—-

 

It takes forty five minutes longer than usual to get the kids to go to sleep, even with six people tag-teaming bedtime. Once they’re finally down for the night, the adults go and crash in the living room. Carol flips the TV on to a random channel and they all laze around.

 

“So Jesse got put in the quiet corner again, huh?” Glenn asks, laying on his back on the floor with his hand folded on his belly.

 

“Ugh, yeah,” Daryl says. “If the teachers would just let him doodle while he does his work he’d be fine. Somethin’ in his brain, though, he can’t just sit still and listen. He’s just as smart as his sister but he can’t pay attention enough to learn nothin’. You seen his art, though. He’s got skills.”

 

“Meanwhile, Josie’s bored as shit because she’s ahead of everyone but the teachers make them all work at the same level,” Carol adds.

 

“I hate how uniform school tries to making teaching,” Michonne says, leaning up against the couch. “Like, look at Josie and Jesse alone. They’re twins and they learn in wildly different ways. Imagine how different a whole class of kids is, and they want to teach them all the same way? Bullshit.”

 

“You ever think of homeschooling?” Rick asks. 

 

“I’d suck ass at it, and Carol can’t with runnin’ the bakery,” Daryl says. “Plus they won’t get friends no other way.” 

 

“I guess,” Maggie starts. “But I wonder—”

 

She gets cut off by a sudden, blaring beeping coming from the TV. All of them startle, turning their attention to the screen, where it just has the word EMERGENCY ANNOUNCEMENT across it, with a ticker tape running at the bottom.

 

“Turn it up,” Daryl says to Carol. She raises the volume some and they listen to the announcement:

 

“ATTENTION. ATTENTION. THE CENTER FOR DISEASE CONTROL HAS ISSUED A CATEGORY 1 EMERGENCY. A DISEASE OF UNKNOWN ORIGIN HAS BEEN CITED IN SEVERAL STATES ACROSS THE COUNTRY. UNTIL MORE INFORMATION IS KNOWN, CITIZENS ARE TO CONSIDER THE DISEASE CONTAGIOUS AND DEADLY. REMAIN INDOORS. DO NOT INTERACT WITH ANYONE YOU THINK MAY BE INFECTED. IF YOU RECEIVE A BITE REPORT TO YOUR LOCAL HOSPITAL IMMEDIATELY. STAY TUNED FOR MORE UPDATES...ATTENTION. ATTENTION. THE CENTER FOR DISEASE CONTROL…” 

 

The announcement repeats itself. All six of them exchange glances. 

 

“Is that for real?” Glenn asks. 

 

“It’s on every channel,” Carol says, clicking the remote and flipping through the channels. 

 

“What did it mean, ‘if you receive a bite?’” Maggie asks.

 

In his pocket, Daryl’s phone vibrates. He pulls it out and opens up a text message from Merle.

 

(9:02p) ^get tf out of atlanta^

 

Daryl frowns.

 

“Merle just texted me telling us to get out of Atlanta,” he says.

 

“What?” asks Carol. Daryl shakes his head, typing. 

 

(9:03p) -wut?-

 

(9:03p) - _ your message cannot be delivered _ -

 

He tries again.

 

(9:04p) - _ your message cannot be delivered _ -

 

Daryl looks up from his phone. He opens his mouth to say something, but before the words leave his mouth the power goes out. They’re all left in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did i forget to mention this fic is a trilogy?
> 
> more info to come
> 
> byee,  
> -diz

**Author's Note:**

> we're back, hoes! these kids will not get out of my head, so i guess i gotta share their adventures with you. i'm gonna add tags as they become relevant so as to prevent spoilers. as of right now i think my posting schedule is going to be every sunday, hopefully before 8p cst (but if it's before i fall asleep at like 3am, that might happen sometimes, too). 
> 
> i think that's all i got to start with. thanks so much for all the love you've given this universe so far. hopefully the sequel continues to entertain at least somewhat. 
> 
> see you next week, love you all, etc,
> 
> -diz
> 
> p.s. waynedunlaptheorgandonor.tumblr.com


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